Trigger
by Lost Claudia
Summary: Maggie Campbell was a military medic. During a tornado on a weekend trip, she mysteriously ends up in Middle Earth. Convinced her Earth-body is probably in a coma, she plays along anyway. Might as well do what she can.
1. And the stars look very different today

Summary: Maggie Campbell was a military medic. During a tornado on a weekend trip, she mysteriously ends up in Middle Earth. Convinced her Earth-body is probably in a coma, she plays along anyway. Might as well do what she can.

Pairings: OFC/Boromir, so far

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings or anything Tolkien-verse related. I also don't own anything I shamefully borrow from anywhere else. This is a work of fanfiction, written entirely for fun. I will try to source my references when I remember to!

Author's Notes: I haven't written a work of fanfiction in well over ten years, and my old account no longer exists. I have a lot of time on my hands recently with little to do with it, as I've recently become disabled and am stuck on my back a lot. This is just an exercise in sanity.

I am using a well-travelled trope for this work, but I will do my best to ensure it is not particularly Mary-Sueish, though any original female character is bound to have a smidge. This is by far not a self-insert, as I am a geeky, non-athletic cripple with an art degree.

Here goes.

All of my chapter titles will be song lyrics. Internet cookies to whomever figures them out.

...

Chapter One - And the stars look very different today

...

Maggie pulled her uniform shirt over her head and replaced it with a plain black tank. Slamming her locker shut, she shouldered her bags, tucked her jacket under her arm, and waved to the fireman leaning back in his chair, reading the morning's paper.

"I'm off, Jeff," she said, nodding.

"Any interesting plans for your downtime?" Jeff asked, lowering the paper.

"Off to the cabin, fishing, shooting, the usual."

"Great, enjoy it! Later Mags!"

She made her way out into the parking lot, where her old blue Ford pickup was parked, already loaded for her trip. Lifting the cover of the truck bed, she carefully placed her two bags inside. She pulled on her hoodie, pulled her keys out of the pocket, and started the truck.

As Maggie headed out onto the quiet roads of the Manitoba plains, she noticed a dark cloud on the horizon to the west. Worried about the potential danger, she pressed down on the gas a little more, speeding along the country road in hopes of getting to her cabin faster. She started to think about her grandpa, and where she was headed.

The cabin had belonged to her grandfather, it had been their special place. He had taught her how to hunt there, how to enjoy the feel of a butt of a rifle against her shoulder, a stag caught in its sights. He had been a veteran of WWII, and had been incredibly proud of her the day she graduated from boot camp. Her grandparents had practically raised her - a horrible car accident had taken her parents away when she was eight years old, and she'd spent the rest of her childhood on their farm in rural Canada. Her grandmother had died when she was away in Afghanistan, and her beloved Grandad had followed soon after. At least she had gotten home in time to be at his side before he slipped away. The grief had been deafening, and as soon as she had gotten out of the army, she had thrown herself into work. The army had been the best way to get some schooling, as her family hadn't the money to send her far away to university. She'd signed up and had become a medic, completing two mandatory tours of duty in Afghanistan, and a third voluntary one before coming home. She'd attained the rank of sergeant, something which had pleased her immensely.

Once she'd been discharged, she'd taken on a job in a small town in southern Manitoba, with the fire service as an emergency medical technician. She had been born in Winnipeg, but her grandparents had lived in the small town, and she was so used to rural life that she had gone back to it upon coming home.

She found her job incredibly challenging, and loved the adrenaline rush. She'd done everything from rescuing people who were trapped on the mountains, to delivering babies, to searching for people lost in the woods, to more everyday things like heart attacks and strokes.

A staccato spattering of large raindrops hitting the windshield tore her out of her reverie.

"Shit," she swore, flicking on the wipers as lightning cracked across the sky. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed a funnel cloud forming in the distance. "Double shit."

She hit the accelerator and looked around frantically. There was nothing but plains for miles in either direction, no ditch to hide in, and no homes in sight. She knew very well that she would not be able to outrun it if it kept coming her way.

The rain was pouring down so hard that she could barely see, her wipers moving frantically as she desperately tried to stay on the road. She prayed the tornado would change direction.

She heard a roaring in her ears, a hurricane of rushing water, and her heart pounded wildly. Suddenly, the truck spun out of control on the wet pavement, and the next thing she knew, her vehicle was spiralling through the air, wind rushing past. She tucked her head down and gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white, as she braced for an inevitable impact.

Everything went dark.

...

_Drip... drip... drip..._

Consciousness came back to Maggie very slowly. There was a white hot pain behind her eyes, and she couldn't feel her left leg. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and her stomach roiled. With a groan, she opened her eyes.

It was completely dark. She squinted, trying to adjust her eyes, and trees came into focus. She wondered just how far she had been thrown. She did a quick assessment of her body. Her head hurt, but her limbs seemed to move. Her left leg seemed to be trapped under something, but she wasn't sure entirely what in the darkness. She slowly eased herself into a sitting position, and reached forward, running her hands over the object.

It appeared to be a portion of her truck's engine. Swearing under her breath, she heaved with all her might, and managed to wriggle her leg out from underneath it. She rubbed her ankle a few times, trying to get the circulation back, but it didn't seem like anything was broken, though it was certainly quite bruised. Her head hurt quite a bit, but there didn't seem to be any bumps.

She pulled herself to her feet, favouring her left ankle, and took a good look at her surroundings. She was in a clearing. The sky was free of clouds, and the stars shone brightly. Her truck was in pieces, strewn across the clearing, one of the doors hanging from a particularly sturdy tree branch. She located the bed of the truck, which was still, thankfully, in one piece, though the corner of the cover was bent and the lock was jammed shut.

Remembering that her keys should still be in the cab, she decided first to find her flashlight. _  
_

She reached into the hole where the cover was bent, and felt around inside. She found the strap to one of her bags, and pulled it towards the hole. Suddenly, she was glad she'd brought her medkit home to do inventory, as she'd reloaded it at work that afternoon. Fumbling with the zipper, she pulled out her penlight, and twisted it on. Soon a bright beam was sweeping around the clearing, and she found the cab beneath a tree, where it had rolled on impact. She made her way over slowly, avoiding the debris in her path. The cab was lying on it's side, so she lay on her stomach and shimmied her way in to pull the keys from the ignition. She pulled open the glove compartment, and grabbed the emergency supplies inside: a small flare gun, an emergency blanket, some matches, and a map. She also pulled the plaid wool blanket from the back of the seat.

She went back to the bed of the truck, and unlocked it. Using a fallen branch as leverage, she managed to wrench it open enough.

She took a quick inventory of her first responder med kit, which was pretty complete. She had several kinds of bandages, syringes, important emergency medications, a box of gloves, a good tourniquet, her stethoscope and sphygmomanometer, disinfectants, tools for performing minor procedures like stitches, an IV kit and bag of saline, tools for assisting birth, a thermometer, and some CPR face shields.

She tugged out an elastic bandage, pulled off her left boot, and wrapped her ankle expertly. She found her bottle of Tylenol in her bag, and swallowed two of the capsules dry.

She dug back around in the truck bed. She located her rifle, which she loaded, and grabbed the extra ammo. She also found her handgun, and ten extra clips, which she had planned on using for target practice. Not knowing how long she was going to be out in the woods, she tucked the extra ammunition into her med kit.

She usually kept clothes and food at the cabin, so she had only brought a few essentials. The cabin didn't have drinkable water, so she had brought a few litres in plastic bottles. She also had a loaf of bread, a box of cereal, a can of beef ravioli, some apples, a box of Kraft Dinner, and a bag of ketchup chips. She had a pair of pyjama pants, a couple of tank tops, her fatigue pants, and some socks and underwear. She stuffed the plastic bag containing her groceries down far in the truck bed.

She looked up the stars, trying to get her bearings. She furrowed her brow in confusion. She couldn't locate the North Star, nor even the Big Dipper.

Figuring she wouldn't be travelling anywhere tonight, she wrapped herself in the plaid blanket from her truck, climbed in the truck bed, so the angled lid acted as a roof. She laid her head on her duffel bag, and dozed off.

...

The sun crept over the horizon, sending streaks of pale pink, lavender and yellow across the sky. Maggie woke up to the sound of birds in the trees nearby, and she stretched to relieve a crick in her neck. She rolled up her blanket, shoved the duffel bag down into the bottom of the truck bed, and set about making a fire.

Once she'd gathered enough timber, she soon had a roaring blaze going. She took her Swiss Army knife and a stick and split it to hold a slice of bread, which she toasted over the fire. Plain toast and water wasn't exactly the most exciting breakfast, but it filled her growling stomach well enough. She dug her toothbrush and toothpaste out of her toiletry bag and cleaned herself up as best she could.

As she was puttering around her little camp, trying to figure out as best she could exactly where she was, she felt like she was being watched. She walked back over to her camp bed, and attached her pistol's holster to the belt on her jeans. She didn't want to chance running into an angry moose or a bear unarmed. She started to walk away from the truck bed again when she heard a branch snap behind her.

There was a man standing there.

...

Boromir watched the strange woman in the clearing for some time. She was standing amid large chunks of what looked like shiny blue metal, dressed very strangely. She was obviously female, but with a very boyish shape - fairly tall, with small breasts, narrow hips, and long arms. Her reddish-brown hair was cropped short to her head, and she had pale skin. There seemed to be some strange markings on her shoulders and bicep, like they'd been painted on with ink.

There was a fire going in the middle of the clearing, built with some measure of expertise. He watched her walk around the clearing, and noted that she seemed to be favouring her left leg a little. He noticed that she was injured, and wondered what she was doing out here all by herself. The wilds were no place for a woman alone. _  
_

He was snapped out of his reverie as she walked closer to where he was hiding behind a copse of trees. He knelt swiftly, peering through the brambles at the base of the tree. She was glancing around with eyes narrowed in suspicion, and reached for something that she attached to her belt.

Wondering if she might need help, he decided to make himself known.

The two stared at each other for quite some time. Her eyes were blue-grey, he noted, and she had a smattering of freckles across her nose. She noticed only that he was dressed like an escapee from a LARP.

He broke the silence first.

"Milady, may I inquire as to why you are out in these woods all alone?"

Hearing his accent and the archaic language he was using, she furrowed her brow, wondering if he was some kind of psycho.

"There was a storm. My truck was lifted by a cyclone and I was thrown from it. Can you tell me where I am?"

He has no idea what a truck was, and there certainly hadn't been a storm. Boromir narrowed his eyes as he sized her up.

"You are in Eriador, about two day's march from Rivendell."

Her eyes widened as she took in this information. She shook her head, confused, as he was acting like they were in 'The Lord of the Rings', which was impossible.

"Come on, be serious. I know you're dressed like you're coming from a Ren Faire or something, but I'm lost. I need help."

"I do not jest. That is where we are," he responded, raising an eyebrow and lifting his shoulders in a gesture of surrender.

"Who are you?" she asked, taking a small step back.

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor, the steward of Gondor," he replied.

She wondered what the everloving fuck was going on here.


	2. There's a calm before the storm

Chapter Two - There's a calm before the storm

...

The woman stood across from Boromir looking absolutely gobsmacked.

"I must've hit my head harder than I thought," she muttered, running her hand through her hair. It stood on end messily.

"Pardon?" Boromir raised an eyebrow.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I? This is some kind of crazy nightmare. These things just don't happen!" Maggie started pacing back and forth, looking up at the sky as if for guidance. "I'm in a coma and I'm having crazy coma dreams. That's the only way this makes sense."

"I'm sorry?" Boromir stared at her, bewildered at her reaction. "Is there something I can do to help?"

"I have no idea how I got here. This doesn't make any sense. It's impossible. Completely impossible. There is no way that a person just hits their head and ends up in Middle Earth," she shook her head in disbelief. "And then to be found by a dude in armour, on his way to Rivendell... this is insane..." she trailed off, rubbing her hands on her arms.

"You appear to be in some distress, milady. I shall stay here with you tonight, and we can continue on to Rivendell in the morning. Lord Elrond will have a better idea of what to do for you," Boromir said, pulling his shield off of his back and leaning it against the truck bed.

"Okay," Maggie said softly, her eyes glazed over a bit. "Yeah, Elrond will know what to do."

...

Boromir took off most of his armour, and pulled a fallen log over beside the fire. He sat, leaning forward with his arms on his knees, watching the woman who was sitting on the ground across the flames. She had wrapped herself in a patterned blanket, and hadn't said another word. Not that he'd tried to start a conversation either. She seemed to be in shock, and was staring ahead blankly.

"What is your name, milady?" he asked, breaking the silence. She looked up at him, and finally seemed to focus.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I'm Maggie. Maggie Campbell," she smiled at him blearily, and pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

"Where are you from, Lady Maggie?" he continued questioning her, hoping to keep her attention.

"A long, long way from here. Somewhere called Manitoba. I don't even think it exists here," she replied, blinking. "Whoa."

"Manitoba. I have never heard of this place, Lady Maggie. I don't understand how you came to be here."

"You and me both," she muttered, exhaling hard. "And please, just Maggie."

"Well, Maggie, why don't you tell me about yourself. And this Manitoba," he grinned at her, sliding to the ground and leaning back on the log, stretching his feet out to warm by the fire.

"Well," Maggie started. She paused for a minute, and tried to choose her words carefully, knowing that he completely wouldn't understand if she explained it as she would to someone from Earth. "I'm a healer, sort of. I used to be in the army, I fought in a war. I'm finished with the army, and now I work in a small town healing people."

"You were in an army?" Boromir's eyebrows shot up. "You're a woman!"

Maggie chuckled. "Where I come from, there are a lot of women in the army. Women can do just about anything men can. I should know, because I've done a bunch of them."

He sized her up. She was stronger than she appeared, with defined muscles in her wiry arms. She wrung her hands in the blanket, with long fingers ending in neat, short fingernails.

Boromir opened his mouth to say something else, when his stomach growled loudly. Maggie let out a peal of laughter, and he looked down sheepishly.

"I suppose I ought to rustle us up some grub," she said, standing up and heading over to her truck bed.

"Do you have food? I can go and hunt, if need be," he offered.

"No, no, I've got some food here," she said, leaning over the truck bed. Her jeans tightened across her rear end, and Boromir averted his eyes, unused to seeing women dressed in such a way. She reappeared with her plastic grocery bag, and pulled out a loaf of bread and the can of ravioli. She returned to the campfire, and pried open the can. She placed the can close to the fire.

"Gotta let this heat up. It's not much, but it'll do. Oh, hang on," she darted up again, and headed over to the truck cab, which was on it's side. She climbed up on it, and leaned down inside, emerging with a paper bag. Glad she'd stopped for dinner the previous night, she pulled a fork and a spoon out of the bag, along with some packets of salt, pepper, and sugar. She tossed the packets into the bag of groceries, and returned to the campfire, sitting down with a thump. She stirred the contents of the can, and tested the temperature with her finger. Satisfied, she opened the bag of bread and pulled out a couple of slices. She piled some of the ravioli onto each piece of bread, and walked around the fire to hand one to him.

"What is this?" Boromir asked, eyeing the food suspiciously.

"It's ravioli. Uh, it's meat wrapped in a pastry, cooked in a tomato sauce," she explained. "Normally you don't eat it on the bread, but I don't have any bowls or anything." He took the piece of bread from her, and tentatively took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

"I like your strange food," he said, taking another bite.

"I thought you might," she laughed, biting into her piece. "I've got enough for seconds, too."

They continued eating in amicable silence, and Maggie spooned out another helping for each of them. Once they had finished, she dug out a water bottle, and took a few sips, before offering it to him.

"This is a strange container," he said, examining it as he took it. "Is it made of glass?"

"Uh, it's similar?" she didn't dare try to explain plastics to him, thinking it'd be too complicated. He raised it to his lips and took a few gulps. He handed it back to her, and she rinsed out the can, before screwing the lid back on.

"Do you think you will be able to walk tomorrow?" Boromir asked. "I noticed you favouring your left leg."

"Yeah, I'll manage," she replied. "It's bruised, but it's definitely not broken. I don't even think it's sprained. If it hurts, I'll find a stick or something."

...

The sun had begun to set, and some clouds were rolling in. The two had spent the afternoon talking, Boromir explaining a few things about his life in Gondor, Maggie talking about growing up on her grandparents' farm, and swapping war stories. She had scooted to his side of the fire, and was now sitting less than an arm's length away from him, leaning against the same log.

Finally getting up the nerve, Boromir pointed to her arm.

"What are those strange markings?" he asked.

"Oh, these? They're tattoos. It's ink, that an artist puts under your skin with a needle," she said, holding out her arm for his inspection. "The one on my shoulder is a poppy. During the First World War, poppies grew in the fields where the soldiers fought, died, and were buried. Poppies on a grave symbolize eternal sleep. I got this one in remembrance of my great-grandfather, who died in that war. See, underneath it says 'Lest We Forget'. Every year, on November 11th, there are ceremonies across my country for those who died fighting for our freedom. There's a famous poem, actually, that goes with it."

"Do you know this poem?" Boromir asked, curious.

"Of course I do," she replied. "By heart. Wanna hear it?" He nodded in response.

"In Flander's fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row.

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow.

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flander's fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flander's fields."

She smiled at him sadly.

"I like it very much," he said. "It describes the reality of war very well. Who wrote it?"

"A man named John McCrae. He was a healer, like me. He died during that war, but the poem became famous afterwards. It's been nearly a hundred years since it happened. It's inspiring."

"What do your other tattoos mean?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, on my back, here is the crest of my country's military, and on my ankle is our emblem, the maple leaf," she said, lifting up her pant leg and pulling down her sock to show him. "I also have the Star of Life on my forearm, this is a symbol of healers in our country."

"Why do your people mark yourself so?"

"Not everyone does this, but it is common in the military culture in my country. We like to mark ourselves so our skin tells our story. Anyone from my country who saw these symbols would immediately know who I am and what I do. They would know I was in the army, they would know I'm a healer."

"Did it hurt?"

"No more than being scratched by a cat, really. They're uncomfortable, but not really painful. The worst is the healing, because they scab over, and then they itch like crazy, but you can't scratch them, or they'll be ruined." she smiled at him. "But as soon as that's over, it is exactly the same as normal skin."

Before he could stop himself, he reached out to touch the poppy on her shoulder. She jumped, a bit surprised, and he withdrew his hand.

"I apologize, I should not have done that," he said, shaking his head.

"Oh, no, it's alright. You just startled me. You can touch it, if you want."

He reached out again, and traced the ink with his finger.

"It really does feel just like skin," he said. "I've never seen anything like it."

Just as Maggie nodded, she heard a rumble of thunder overhead.

"Uh oh," she said. "Sounds like it's going to rain."

"I agree," he replied. "This fire will not do us much good."

"Well," she said. "We can get in the truck bed. It'll be a bit snug, but it'll keep the rain off of our heads. Here, grab your armour, we can shove it down in the bottom with the rest of my stuff." She hopped over the edge, and reached out to take the armour from him. She put it down in the end, and tugged the blanket in after her. He looked at her warily. She patted the bottom of the truck bed. "Hop in," she said.

Slightly embarrassed, he climbed over the edge of the truck bed, and slid down inside. He had to curl up a bit to keep his feet from touching the bottom, but he fit. There was enough space between the two of them to be comfortable, so he tugged his cloak around himself. Maggie wrapped herself in the blanket, just as the skies opened and the rain came down.

"Well, looks like we made it just in time," she said, propping herself up on one arm, facing him.

"I'm glad, it is not easy to sleep out in the open air when it's raining," he replied.

"We should probably get some shut eye, if we plan to get an early start in the morning," she suggested. Boromir nodded.

"I agree. The sooner we start out, the faster we get to Rivendell."

...

The sun began to rise, bathing the clearing in a golden light. Boromir stirred gently, slowly waking up. He felt something warm and breathing curled up against him, which felt astoundingly good, but also very confusing.

His eyes shot open. Curled up in front of him was Maggie, and he had his arm around her, holding her snugly against his chest. He recalled what happened the night before, and tried to withdraw his arm. As he attempted to move away, she murmured in her sleep, and wrapped both of her arms around his, nestling his arm between her breasts and sighing gently. His face turned beet red, as he realized that she would probably be upset when she woke. He deliberately relaxed his muscles, not realizing he had stiffened upon awakening, and settled back in. It didn't seem he could get away without waking her, and he didn't want to do that just yet.

...

Maggie woke up slowly, cracking her eyes open to the morning sun. Her hip hurt from where it was digging into the truck bed, but her back felt warm, and she was snuggling something tightly in her arms that was also warm.

Her eyes snapped open as the realization of exactly where she was and what she was snuggling hit her. She immediately released Boromir's arm, which he withdrew, and she pushed herself up as far as she could without hitting her head, closing her eyes and silently praying he was still asleep.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was staring back at her, his eyes gleaming with silent mirth, though the tips of his ears were red.

"Sorry," she muttered. He smiled in reply.

"Better to have kept warm," he said practically, pulling himself out of the truck bed. He dug his armour out, and began to dress. Maggie pulled her duffel bag out of the truck bed, and rooted around for a few items of clothing.

"Erm," she said, as he looked up at her.

"Right," he replied, and turned to walk into the forest. "I will let you change."

Maggie pulled off her dirty black tank top, and adjusted her sports bra. She had another demi bra in her bag, but decided to keep it clean for now. She rolled on some deodorant, wrinkling her nose at the shadow of hair beginning to show in her armpits, but shrugged, thinking she'd been both hairier and smellier. She tugged on a grey tank top, changed her underwear, and pulled her jeans and combat boots back on. She pulled her olive green hoodie on, zipping it up in front. She tucked her dog tags under her shirt, and stuffed her dirty clothes back in the duffel bag. She started to stick the food in the same bag as her clothes, letting the air out of the bag of chips and bread to save space. She stuck the can inside as well, not knowing if it'd come in handy later. She opened the box of cereal, and grabbed a handful to munch as she pulled her medical kit towards her by the strap.

Boromir returned a short while later to find her eating. She offered the bag toward him. Inside were strange multi-coloured circles.

"What is it?" he asked, taking a handful.

"Cereal. Froot Loops."

The sweetness took him by surprise, but on the whole they were pretty good. She handed him the bag, and he took another handful as she dug out her cowboy hat, shoving it down on her head. She slung her duffel bag across her chest, and rolled the blanket up to tuck through the handles, snapping them in place. She lifted her medical bag and tossed it over her shoulder, then picked up her rifle.

"What is that?" he asked, swallowing a mouthful of cereal. Maggie thought for a moment.

"It's a weapon. Kind of like a crossbow, but much stronger," she explained. "I can kill a man with one shot with this. It's called a gun. I'll warn you, if I have to fire it, it will be very loud."

He nodded, and she adjusted her jacket.

"I'm ready to go," she told him.

"Good," he replied. "How is your ankle?"

"Feels much better today," she said. "It's a little sore, but I think I can walk on it."

"Then we shall leave," he said, turning toward the woods. "We will have to keep a steady pace to cover enough ground. Can you handle that?"

"Oh yes. I'm used to marching for hours, don't worry," she smiled, and followed him through the bush.

...

A/N: First chapter's title is from Space Oddity, by David Bowie. :)


	3. Every step we take that's synchronized

...

Chapter 3 - Every step we take that's synchronized

...

They reached Rivendell before nightfall on the second day of marching. Boromir was impressed at Maggie's stamina, as she had kept pace with him with apparent ease. They had not talked much while they travelled, but when they had stopped for the night, she had told him a few more stories about her world. He was fascinated by the marvels she explained, flying machines and instant methods of communication. He hoped that someday he might be able to visit this amazing place.

When they arrived, one of the guard-elves who was standing sentinel immediately escorted them to Elrond's quarters.

Maggie looked around in wonder, taking in the beautiful waterfalls, trickling into ponds shaded by overhanging trees, a gentle scent of flowers on the breeze.

"I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore," she breathed to herself, eyes wide with wonder.

The guard-elf knocked on a wooden door, ornately carved and inlaid with metal leaves. A voice beckoned them to enter, and the elf left them.

Boromir took a knee.

"Lord Elrond," he said, bowing his head. He looked up at Maggie, who swiftly followed his motion.

"Boromir, son of Denethor. You have arrived barely in time for the Council, for it begins tomorrow. And who is this young... woman... you bring with you?" Elrond asked, sizing Maggie up as she rose.

"My name is Margaret Campbell, but everyone calls me Maggie. I'm not from this world, if that makes any sense," she said, shaking her head. "It's hard to explain. There was a great storm, and it wrecked my truck... uh, the vehicle I was travelling in. I woke up in the woods, and the next day, Boromir found me."

Elrond crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow.

"You are dressed strangely," he conceded. "Though I am not sure I believe you. This sounds quite impossible."

"And yet I am here in front of you. Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Hang on a second," Maggie said, and began digging in her bag. "I have something from my world that you'd never see here. Maybe that will convince you."

She pulled out her iPhone, and turned it on. The screen lit up. Elrond took a step back.

"What is that?"

"It's called a phone. It's how people in my world communicate. Everyone has a number assigned to them, and if you enter that number, it calls them, and you can talk to them. There's even a way that you can see them as you speak to them. You can also send letters or notes in an instant, access an amazing amount of information, keep track of your schedule, play little games, record your voice... oh, here, it's a light, too," she switched on the flashlight.

"How is it made?" Elrond asked, reaching for the object. She handed it to him and he ran his fingers over it.

"Don't ask me. It's made of metal and glass, but the specifics are a bit beyond me," she sighed. "I know how to use it, that's pretty much it. But it won't do me much good here, I can't communicate with my world with it, and it will run out of power eventually."

"I believe you now," he said, handing the phone back to her. "What I want to know is why you are here."

"There's one more thing you should know," she looked him square in the eye. "Where I come from, this world is a myth. A story. And I know what happens. I know about the quest. I know about the Ring. And Sauron, and how this all will end."

Boromir's eyes widened and he looked at her in shock. "You did not tell me of this," he breathed.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I wasn't sure how to, really."

"This changes many things, young Maggie. I wish for you to attend the Council tomorrow morning. Your input would be most valued, I believe. You are welcome in Rivendell, though whether your presence brings good or ill, I do not yet know."

"Well, that makes two of us," she responded smartly. "I do appreciate any insight you might have. I might be some help."

"She is a skilled healer and a soldier, as well," Boromir added. Elrond looked at her with surprise.

"Do you have experience in war?" Elrond asked, placing a hand on the well-carved desk behind him as if to steady himself.

"Yes. I served in a very large war back home. And I think I'll have a much easier time fighting orcs and goblins than I did fighting men there. I don't have to think of their wives, or their children, or their mothers. Every man I killed had a mother."

Elrond looked thoughtful. "I would like to know more about this war, if you are willing to tell it."

"Well, I'll explain it to you as best I can, if I can," she replied. "My country neighbours another large country, with many more people. They have the largest military of any country in my world. Other nations don't always appreciate this. There's a nation across a vast ocean called Afghanistan. A group of dangerous men, terrorists, as we call them, decided they were going to attack our neighbours. Do you have a piece of paper?"

Elrond handed her a sheet. She began folding as she spoke.

"We have great flying machines that can cross the world in mere hours. Metal dragons, really. You can cross a thousand miles in two hours," she said, running her fingernail along a seam. "Hundreds of them cross the world in a day. There are about six billion people on my world. No elves, or hobbits, or dwarves. Just what you would call Men."

"Anyway, this group of men took four of these machines by force. They flew them into important buildings - two of them were in one of the world's largest cities, and they killed civilians. Thousands of them. Men, women, children. Innocents. They flew another into the building where the military makes most of their decisions." She walked over to the window and tossed the paper plane she had folded out. They watched it glide down, do a loop, and land in a tree. "The fourth? The civilians on board, just ordinary people, they fought the men who had come to crash the machine into the place where that country's leaders make decisions. They brought it down in a field, killing everyone on board. They saved hundreds of lives. Heroes."

"My country, Canada, has long been allied with our neighbours. Our military may not be as large, but we pledged to go to the attackers and find them. Our job was primarily peacekeeping, between the factions in Afghanistan. We wanted to remove those dangerous men from power. And we succeeded, though not without cost." Maggie pulled her rifle from her shoulder, and her handgun from it's holster. "This is the type of weapon we use. It's called a gun. It fires projectiles at great speeds, far stronger than an arrow. If I hit someone in the head from the distance I am standing from you with this," she brandished the rifle. "Part of their head would probably explode, and their brains would paint the wall."

"I want to join this fight. I know I can be useful," she looked at him pointedly.

"I will not prevent you, for I agree," Elrond agreed. "For tonight, though, I think you had better rest, and gather your strength for tomorrow."

He reached over to a cord hanging from the wall, and pulled it. Moments later, an elf appeared.

"Ready guest quarters for these two," Elrond commanded. "And I believe they would probably like something to eat."

As if on cue, Maggie's stomach rumbled. Boromir snickered. She elbowed him. Elrond looked faintly amused.

...

The elf led them to a space with a table spread with food. He explained to them that just up the hallway would be two bedrooms prepared for them, along with bathing chambers. He then left.

"I would kill for a hot bath," Maggie sighed, sinking into a chair and picking up a fork. Boromir sat across from her.

"I know," he replied, smiling. "Being on the road is not the most pleasant."

"Nor hygenic."

They finished eating, and headed their separate ways. Maggie got her bath, luxuriating in the hot water as it eased her muscles. She dug out her razor and shaved, and washed her hair, feeling better than she had in days. After drying off and throwing on her plaid pyjama pants and sleeping t-shirt, she fell into bed, asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

...

_"Get some more oxygen on her, fast!"_

_"She probably has a head injury." _

_"Her pelvis is shattered, and she has multiple contusions on her legs. Her right lung is perforated. Her left wrist is broken. We need to get her into surgery." _

_"O.R. is being prepped right now." _

_"We don't want to lose her." _

...

Maggie awoke slowly, feeling a little groggy. Her dreams had been filled with voices. It had reminded her of bringing people into the emergency room on the job, running beside a stretcher as she was pulling it through the hallways. She couldn't remember seeing anything but a white light. Very strange.

She dressed quickly, changing into her clean camouflage pants and pulling a clean black tank over her head. She resolved to ask someone about doing her laundry, because the clothes she'd been travelling in were quite smelly. She walked into the bathing chamber, taking care of the necessary things and emerging soon after, running a hand through her short hair.

She headed down to the room where she had eaten the previous night. Boromir was already there, looking much less scraggly than the last time she'd seen him. His face was clean, his beard trimmed, and his now-tidy hair was tucked behind one ear. He looked up from his breakfast as she entered. She smiled at him.

"The Council begins just after breakfast," he said to her, as she spooned some oatmeal into a bowl. "I've heard that one of the wizards is attending."

"Gandalf," she nodded. He looked at her in confusion, then remembered what she had said the previous night.

After they ate, they were escorted to an outdoor area with a great deal of chairs surrounding a table. There were already many people milling about, several dwarves, some elves, a bearded man Maggie could only assume was Gandalf, and a couple of men. And, of course, Frodo was standing there, looking about with a wide-eyed gaze.

Elrond stood, and the entire Council was seated. Maggie noticed that most of the group was staring at her, with the exception of Elrond and Boromir. She focused her attention on Elrond, and ignored the eyes burning holes into her.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom," Elrond's voice boomed across the space. He turned to Frodo. "Bring forth the ring, Frodo."

Frodo stepped forward and placed the ring in the centre of the table.

"So it is true!" Boromir exclaimed in shock.

"Sauron's Ring, the ring of power!" one of the elves responded.

The Council continued almost exactly as she remembered it. It began to get heated, as insults were flying across the table. As everyone was yelling, Maggie locked her gaze on Frodo, who was looking about with a sense of panic. He looked into her eyes. She nodded, ever so slightly.

"I will take it!" Frodo suddenly exclaimed. "I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though... I do not know the way."

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear," Gandalf stood, and placed his hand on Frodo's shoulder.

"If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will," Aragorn knelt in front of him. "You have my sword."

"...And you have my bow," Legolas added.

"And my axe!" Gimli threw in.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one," Boromir said. "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

"Here!" came a shout from up the path. "Mister Frodo's not going anywhere without me!" A hobbit popped up from behind a bush and ran in.

"No, indeed," Elrond said, looking slightly amused. "It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Two more hobbits popped up and ran in, and Elrond looked exasperated as they also threw their hats into the ring. Maggie's shoulders shook in silent laughter, and Boromir shot her a look.

"I will join you on your quest," she said. Everyone's head turned immediately to look at her.

"And what would a woman know of quests and the Ring of Power?" one of Gimli's dwarf companions said.

"More than you would possibly expect," Maggie retorted. "I am not of this world. And where I come from, this quest has already happened. I know how it ends. I know I can be of use. And I am a competent soldier."

The dwarf snorted.

In response, Maggie drew her pistol from her belt. She took quick aim at a tree branch just above his head, and fired.

The bullet snapped through a small branch, and embedded itself in the trunk. The branch immediately fell on the dwarf's head. The sound made everyone in the room jump, and several of them ducked.

"Do not doubt me," she said. "I am a much stronger warrior than you might expect, and in my world, I have given my service to my nation. I am also a competent healer, and that may be necessary in our travels."

Aragorn looked at her with respect. "Do you know Elvish medicine?"

"No, I do not, but I hope to learn as much as I can while we are here," she said. "I have my own supplies that thankfully travelled with me, and while they are nothing you'll have seen, they are definitely effective at treating most wounds."

"Very well," said Elrond. "Ten companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Great," Pippin said. "Where are we going?"

Maggie facepalmed.

...

A/N: So that was pretty much an "advance the plot" chapter, but necessary. Things will start to get interesting again soon.

I am so excited that some people are already reading this! I'm writing it anyway, but there have been several people adding to their reading lists, which makes me so happy. Feel free to leave a review, if you'd like - I'd love to hear from you! (I love lurkers, too, though!) And play my song game, if you'd like. :)

I hope to be able to post new content at least once a week. It really depends on what else is going on (and how many drugs are pumping in my veins, because if I am too out of it, nothing will make sense). I do have a lot of free time, so expect quite a few updates.

If it isn't immediately evident, I will mostly be following the movie plots, as that is what I'm most recently familiar with. I haven't read the books in about fifteen years, and it's much easier to write with a movie script open than rifling through a million pages to find the passages I want.

Song of last chapter: Have You Ever Seen the Rain? - Creedence Clearwater Revival

Stole the words of Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, and from Sherlock Holmes.


	4. The amazing, electrifying feeling

A/N: Things might start to get steamy in here. Just a heads up. But then, would you be reading an M-rated fic if you didn't expect it? :P Depictions of sex, both hetero and non (Maggie has slept with a couple of girls before). If that bothers you, please don't read.

...

Chapter Four - The amazing, electrifying feeling that surges through your body when you kiss someone for the first time

...

They planned to leave Rivendell in three week's time. Maggie intended to spend as much time as possible learning what she could from the elves, and Elrond, ever accommodating, had assigned a healing elf to tutor her.

Maggie had also resolved to do her best to get to know the rest of the Fellowship better. Gandalf remained aloof and somewhat veiled to her. He furrowed his brow whenever she passed him, though she greeted him cheerfully. She fared a bit better with the others, especially the hobbits, who thought she was quite entertaining. Aragorn seemed to respect her, but he spent the majority of his time with Arwen, conversing in Elvish. Legolas was an enigma, and was quite close-mouthed around her. She suspected, in time, he might warm up to her, but left him largely to his own devices. Gimli, upon her demonstration at the Council, had showered her with a hundred questions about her weapons, which she tried to explain to the best of her ability. She took her handgun apart and showed him all of the different parts, and put it back together. She spent a bit of time with Arwen, when she wasn't occupied with Aragorn, because she was one of the few females in Rivendell who she could converse with. She decided she liked the female elf, even if she felt a little grubby and awkward beside her luminous beauty.

Boromir remained the one that she was the closest to. She sat next to him at meals, and she spent much of her spare time watching him spar with some of the elves, or talking with him in the gardens. She tried her best not to think about his fate, and wondered if she should disclose what she knew to Gandalf or Elrond, or if she should try to change it.

She watched him slam his sword into the elf's. He had stripped down to a simple short-sleeved shirt, tucked into dark, loose pants. He still had a pair of bracers on, but his biceps were bare, and she watched the muscles ripple under his skin. Without his thick coat and chain mail, he looked less intimidating, but just as powerful.

And he had a great butt.

As she sat, admiring the view, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around, and looked into the wizened eyes of Gandalf the wizard.

"I think," he rumbled. "That it is time for us to have a discussion. Come."

"I agree," she responded, springing to her feet. She followed him into a quiet little glade, where he sat upon another bench. Maggie leaned against a nearby tree.

"I'm having trouble understanding exactly why you have come to be here in Middle Earth," Gandalf began. "There must be a reason that you are here, but I cannot seem to figure out what that reason is."

"I know," she said. "I'm afraid that my presence may change the course of events, but I don't know if it will make it better or easier. I don't know if I am meant to save those who we might lose, or not."

"Hmm," said Gandalf thoughtfully. "This is a mysterious event, and it's happening will change things."

"In our myth, Frodo succeeds," Maggie revealed. "I don't think my presence will change that, because at a certain point, the Fellowship will split, and he will have to go to Mordor with only Sam. The rest of us will be creating a diversion by leading an army to the Black Gates. I know I can be a part of that."

"I will discuss this with Elrond," Gandalf decided. "He has the gift of foresight, though he did not predict your coming here. It is possible, though, that he can see how you are going to change this path."

"I think that's a good idea," she replied. "If you need anything from me, please, just ask. I will do what I can to help figure this out."

"Oh, I almost forgot. I have a feeling that my body in my world is in stasis of some sort. I've been having dreams that lead me to believe that," Maggie added. "I'm not sure what this means, that if my body in my world wakes, it means I will leave, or not."

"That might be the case," Gandalf leaned forward. "However, I think that, if you are here for a reason, you won't leave us until the time is right."

"I hope you're right."

...

Early one morning, Maggie pulled on her camo pants, and laced up her boots, tugging her sports bra over her head, but leaving her tank top behind. She began to jog around Rivendell, getting her heart rate going. She always ran when she had frustrations to vent, and since she had no idea what she was supposed to do, getting the tension out of her body became her priority. When she ran, the only things she focused on were her breathing, the in and out, her heart pounding in her ears, the slapping of her feet on the ground and the wind in her hair.

She wasn't paying much attention where she was going, when she rounded a corner and nearly slammed into Legolas. He sidestepped her easily, and she stopped, rubbing the beginning of a stitch in her side, catching her breath.

He sized her up. Her abdomen and arms were bare, and he could see the taut muscles under her skin. She was shorter than him, but still fairly tall, with long legs. She had a definite wiry strength about her, not quite the elegant muscles of female warrior-elves, but still admirable in her own way.

"Don't let me interrupt you," he said, as she bent over with her hands on her knees, panting.

"You aren't," she replied. "Needed to catch my breath anyway."

"Do you do this often?"

"What, run? Yeah. Almost every day, back home. It helps get the cobwebs out of the attic, if you know what I mean," she smiled.

"I know," he replied. "Something about being out in the air, it makes you feel better, helps you to sort out your emotions."

"That's exactly it."

"May I ask what's troubling you?"

"You can, if you can keep up with me," she grinned, and started to take off.

"Hah!" he said, chasing after her. "You'll never outrun an elf!"

"Maybe not, but I bet I can keep up for at least half an hour!"

"Oh, we'll see."

The two jogged on, and Maggie filled him in on her conversations with Gandalf and Elrond. He told her that the best thing she could do would be to follow her instincts, because they would tell her what path she should take.

Maggie kept up with him for forty minutes, and when they parted ways, he chuckled at her.

"I don't know how it's possible that you still look absolutely perfect after running like that," she teased, pushing her sweaty hair back.

"I'm an elf," he smirked.

"Don't be a smartass. I'll flick my sweat on you!" she shoved his shoulder playfully, and he made a disgusted face. "Same time tomorrow?"

"You're on."

...

After Maggie bathed off the sweat, she headed down the corridor to meet up with her tutor. She was surprised to find that, in the room set aside for recovery, there were two elves lying on beds. She looked at Maeweth in silent question.

"These two were out scouting. They were ambushed by orcs. Their injuries are only minor, but they need to be taken care of. It looks like you arrived just in time."

Maeweth showed Maggie which herbs to grind, and handed her a mortar and pestle. She set to work, as the healing elf began to murmur in Elvish over the wounds.

"How would you care for these wounds in your world?" Maeweth asked, as Maggie handed her the ground herbs, which she mixed into a salve.

"Well, we would clean the wounds, perhaps administer something to help the blood to clot, something else to prevent infection, and then we would stitch the wound shut. It helps to keep the scarring down."

"Hmm," replied the elf thoughtfully. "I think that method would work well on Men. Elves do not really scar. We can be killed, but if we are healed by an elf, injuries rarely leave a mark."

"Well, I'm hoping I don't have to find out," Maggie chuckled. "But if I do, that's good to know."

The two elves, who watched the conversation curiously, but clearly didn't understand it, thanked Maeweth, bowed their heads to Maggie, and left.

...

A few days later, Maggie crouched in the shade of a tree, whittling on a piece of fallen branch with her knife. She had no real skill, but she cut little curlicues into the wood, watching as the shavings landed around her boots. She looked up when she heard someone approaching, assuming that it wasn't an elf, because she wouldn't have heard it.

Boromir was smiling at her from the edge of the little grassy knoll. He dropped down beside her, leaning up against the tree, and took a look at her handiwork.

"I'm just fooling around," she chuckled. "I'm no master."

"Practice helps," he said wisely. "Perhaps you could ask Elrond for one of his elves, they're known for their craft."

"I'm already pestering him enough for the medical training," she replied. "I don't want to irritate him too much."

"I don't think you could irritate him any more than Merry and Pippin do."

"No kidding. I'm surprised he hasn't thrown them out of Rivendell yet," Maggie laughed.

"Oh, Elrond is used to pranksters. You should see what the twins get up to," said a voice from behind them. The two whirled around, and Legolas stood there, smirking. "They once sewed all of the arms of his clothes shut."

"Don't sneak up on me like that," Maggie said, flicking her stick at his knees. He dodged easily.

"Ready for our run?" he asked, leaning against the tree and knocking his boot against her hip.

"You're on," she replied, and handed her stick to Boromir. "Catch up with you later?"

"At dinner," he nodded.

The elf and the girl took off.

Boromir watched them leave, and wondered silently about the pull he felt toward this strange woman.

...

After dinner that night, Maggie invited Boromir on a walk around Rivendell, climbing up to a high ridge to watch the sun set.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful," Maggie said, sitting down and crossing her legs. Boromir lounged behind her, leaning back on his hands.

"This place has a certain magical quality to it," he replied. "Yet you haven't seen the White City, either."

"You're right, I haven't. But I will," she leaned on his leg a bit. "And you can show me around your home. I can meet your family."

"My father won't have any idea what to do with you," Boromir chuckled. "You're unlike any woman I've ever known. My brother will probably be a shameless flirt."

"Sibling rivalry thing?" Maggie looked over her shoulder at him. "I never had a brother, but I do have a cousin who was practically my brother. My aunt and uncle lived next door to my grandparents, so he was there every day. He tormented me as much as he could. Still does, really, if he gets the chance."

"I bet you give it right back to him."

"Know me that well already, eh?" Maggie grinned. "I'll have to try harder. Getting predictable."

They sat in silence for a few moments, as the streaks of colour brightened across the clear sky.

"No special lady in Gondor waiting for you?" Maggie asked finally, knowing full well what the answer was.

"No," he replied. "I have not had the time to go courting, really, with all the duties my father has assigned me. Do you have a husband waiting back home?"

"Hah," she replied. "I scare the hell out of most men I've met. I don't think I've had a guy stick around for longer than a month. Most of the guys I get with are little more than one night stands. Or friends with benefits."

"Friends with benefits?" Boromir raised an eyebrow at her. Maggie blushed.

"Er, well, in our world, we're a lot more... liberated... with love," she stammered. "There are medications and tools that prevent a woman from getting pregnant, or from partners passing diseases. Since those were discovered, it's considered normal for women to explore their sexuality. Some of the men I've shared my bed with have just been friends, there wasn't really any love involved."

"You are not a maiden?" Boromir flushed, looking surprised.

"I'm thirty years old," she replied. "You'd have a hard time finding a woman my age who is."

"Most women here do not lie with any man but their husbands," he said. "Unless they're whores."

Maggie gave him a look.

"I'm not... I didn't mean..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure," she teased. "But let me guess, men can sleep around as much as they want before they get married."

"My first and only experience was with a woman bought for me by my friends, on my seventeenth birthday," Boromir said, sighing. "It was not the most pleasant experience."

"Ooh, so I've been with more ladies than you," Maggie smirked. "You're practically a virgin."

"I am not a virgin," Boromir replied, looking offended. "And... wait, what?" His eyebrows shot up. Maggie started laughing.

"I like women, too," she explained. "I don't know if that's something that happens here, but it's definitely normal where I come from. And some women, even those who end up married to men, explore with other girls in their youth."

"Wh...how?" he stuttered. "You don't have the right... er..."

"Equipment?" she supplied. "You'd be surprised what you can do with your tongue."

Boromir went red.

"And your hands."

He hid his face in his arms.

"I guess you've never used your tongue on a lady before," she said smugly.

He made a strangled sort of sound.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop talking about it," she relented. "Although it is absolutely hilarious to watch you turn various shades of purple."

"Gnaugh," he responded. She gently patted his arm.

"It's okay," she said. "You can learn from the master."

After the miserable sound he made in response, she decided to take pity on him and change the subject.

...

One morning, about a week before they were due to leave, there was a knock at Maggie's door, early in the morning. She was wrapped in a form of Elvish towel, having just come out of the bath.

"Who is it?" she called.

"Arwen," came the response.

"Oh, come on in," she said, tucking the sheet into itself. "I'm not dressed yet, though."

The door opened. The ethereally gorgeous elf walked in, followed by two other female elves, one carrying scissors and some kind of measuring tape, the other several bolts of fabric.

"That is a good thing. I need your measurements," Arwen said.

"Measurements?" Maggie asked. "What for?"

"Well, there will be a banquet two nights before you set out," Arwen explained. "I imagine you will want something nice to wear."

Maggie chuckled. "What, I shouldn't just show up in this fashionable ensemble?" She twirled, the tucked-in sheet flaring out around her.

"I have a feeling my father would not appreciate that," Arwen smiled. "Though my brothers might."

"I heard they once sewed your father's sleeves shut," Maggie said. "I haven't even met them and I like them already."

Arwen laughed, which was a liquid sound, like glass bells in the rain.

"I'll make sure to introduce you. They'll be returning from Lothlorien in time for the banquet."

"I hope you have enough food," Maggie grinned. "Have you seen how much those hobbits eat?"

"Oh, we've hosted a hobbit before," Arwen replied. "And a bunch of dwarves. Father knows. Arms up."

Maggie obliged, while the two elves made their measurements. Arwen took the individual bolts of fabric and held them up to Maggie's face, murmuring in Elvish as she compared colours.

"Your eyes are a lovely stormy blue," Arwen said. "Although this green brocade would suit your hair."

"I like the blue," Maggie said, fingering the fabric. "The green is a little too fancy for me."

"I agree," Arwen said.

"I'm not much of a dress kind of girl," Maggie admitted, as Arwen walked in a circle around her.

"Nonsense," she said. "Every girl is a dress kind of girl. They just need to find the right dress." Her eyes sparkled. "And this dress will be perfect for you."

"Oh, I doubt I could compete with you Elves," Maggie said. "I'm kind of boyish."

"You have a slight build, yes," Arwen admitted. "But your delicate facial structure is very feminine. You'll be lovely. Trust me. It should be ready the morning before the banquet, and they'll do any adjustments then."

"Well, I thank you for your efforts," Maggie smiled. "I hope you're getting something new, too. Not that your man can keep his eyes off you anyway."

The tips of Arwen's ears went red. Maggie had been trying to get any of the elves she was acquainted with to blush, but the tips of their ears were the only sign of embarrassment they exhibited.

"Purple," Maggie said.

"Purple?" Arwen repeated.

"Where I come from, it's the colour of royalty, and of magic," Maggie explained. "Pick a deep blue-purple. You'll knock him off of his feet."

"Do you think so?" Arwen smiled shyly.

"I know so," Maggie laughed. "That man is smitten already."

"My father said you know the future," Arwen looked directly in Maggie's eyes. "He does not want me to be with Aragorn."

"I know he doesn't. But you will be. He needs you beside him," Maggie said. "You will be his Queen someday. And you're already queen of his world, so don't worry."

"Is there any man who has caught your eye?" Arwen perched elegantly on the edge of the bed.

Maggie coloured a bit. "I admit I have kind of a crush on Boromir."

"A crush?"

"Oh. It's a term we use where I come from," Maggie explained. "It means you admire them, and you kind of like them. When you get that kind of giddy feeling when they're around. And you think they're good looking."

"Ah," Arwen said wisely. "I know he admires you greatly. He said as much to Aragorn."

"Don't you two go playing matchmaker," Maggie shook her finger at the elf.

"I won't," Arwen smiled slightly. "But you will tell me if anything... progresses?"

"Of course," Maggie grinned. "After all, we girlfriends gotta stick together! Hey, before the banquet, come to my room. I'll do your makeup."

"Makeup?" Arwen looked confused.

"Oh, products we use in our world to enhance our beauty," Maggie explained. She fished around in her bag. "I don't have much, but I have mascara - it makes your eyelashes longer and darker - and some lip stain. Ooh, I have an eyeshadow palette, great. It'll make your eyes really stand out."

"I'm not so sure about this," Arwen said.

"Come on! We'll try it. If you don't like it, we can take it off."

"All right," Arwen relented.

...

On the morning of the banquet, as Arwen had said, one of the two elves who had measured her showed up with a folded dress. She indicated to Maggie that she should change into it, and Maggie allowed the elf to lace her into it.

"Whoa," Maggie said, standing in front of the mirror. The dress was long, form-fitted, with sleeves that sloped out into bells over her hands. It was a pale blue-grey, with silver embroidery along the bodice, enhancing her small breasts. The fabric covered all of her tattoos, and swirled around her legs enticingly. There was a knock at the door soon after.

Arwen entered, carrying a small box. She smiled as Maggie turned to her.

"I was right," the elf said. "It suits you very well."

"I don't think I've ever felt this pretty," Maggie spun around. "I don't know how to thank you."

Arwen dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "Just show up and be beautiful," she said. "And come and look at this."

Arwen stepped over to the bed, and poured out the contents of the box. A jumble of jewelry came tumbling out. Arwen sifted through it, untangling a few chains as she went.

"Try this on," she said, holding up a simple pendant, that appeared to be made of a bright blue stone, glowing within with an eerie light. Maggie tugged her dog tags over her head, and tossed them on the bed. Arwen stepped behind her, and fastened the necklace.

"Perfect," she breathed. "You're definitely borrowing this for tonight."

"This wasn't a gift from Aragorn, is it?" Maggie asked.

"Oh, no," the elf said. "This was a gift from my grandmother. It's perfect for this dress."

Maggie smiled at her. "Thank you for doing this."

"You're very welcome," Arwen replied. "I don't often have guests to spoil."

"Well, spoil away," Maggie grinned at her.

...

Arwen and Maggie decided to enter the banquet together, arm in arm. Arwen had liked the light-handed makeup that Maggie had applied, contouring her eyes so they stood out even more, and lengthening her eyelashes. Maggie herself had applied mascara and a little lip stain to her pale lips, and highlighted the inner corner of her eyes with a little shadow.

When they walked in, Aragorn stood up immediately, walking over to his lady-love.

"You look beautiful," he said, leaning in to kiss her gently.

"I'll never tire of hearing you say that," she replied quietly.

"I will never stop saying it," he smiled at her lovingly, then turned to Maggie. "And who is this lovely maid? I hardly recognize you."

Maggie grinned at him. "Not bad, eh? Blame your girlfriend. She insisted on the dress."

"It is a very nice dress," Aragorn conceded. "Now, let us go sit."

They swept the rest of the way into the room. Maggie walked over to the table, looking around the room shyly. Most of the elves milling around looked, as usual, absolutely beautiful, though she felt, for the first time, that she wasn't so out of place next to them. Arwen introduced Maggie to her twin brothers, who both had a mischievous look about them that made Maggie like them instantly. She talked with them about various pranks she had played, and they teased their younger sister with good humour.

Boromir was talking with Gandalf when he saw Maggie enter the room, and tried to hide the way his breath caught. She'd always looked... interesting... but she looked absolutely lovely tonight. Her hair had grown a bit in the several weeks since they'd arrived in Rivendell, and it curled around her ears in a very enticing way, accenting her high cheekbones. The dress she wore was stunning, the perfect colour for her, and a testament to the Elvish craft. She wore a pendant around her neck, and it nestled in the dip between her breasts. He couldn't stop thinking about the conversation they had shared on the ridge at sunset, and it drove him to distraction wondering what her experience might bring if they were together.

He realized he was staring, and tore his eyes away, trying to focus on what Gandalf was saying. The wizard looked between the two, and chuckled to himself.

"Let us go and take our seats," Gandalf said, placing his hand underneath Boromir's elbow to lead him toward the table.

...

Maggie deliberately remained aloof, talking with everyone at the banquet except Boromir. She could feel his eyes burning into her as she conversed with Elrond, and felt a surge of feminine pride. Arwen noticed that her young friend was being watched, and elbowed Aragorn gently. They shared a look, and Aragorn grinned.

Maggie sipped on a goblet of wine, swirling it over her tongue. It was better than most of the wine she'd had, but she had never been much of a wine drinker back home. It went to her head a lot faster than she expected, too. Her face was warm, and she felt a little giddy. As it became late, she approached Boromir, trying to keep the predatory look out of her eyes.

"Hi," she said, sidling up to him.

"Hello," he responded, almost shyly. "You look radiant tonight."

"I'm no Elf," Maggie said. "But I clean up pretty good for a scrubby soldier."

"I think the Elves should be jealous of you," Boromir leaned in closer to whisper in her ear. Maggie shivered.

"Walk me home?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

He held out his arm for her to take, and they quietly slipped away.

...

They reached the hallway outside of her room, and stopped several steps from her door. Maggie stood in front of Boromir, smiling at him. They gazed at each other for a moment, then Maggie reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He took a step back, and she flattened her body against his, pressing him into the wall. Boldly, she turned her face up to his and captured his lips with her own. He let out a sharp breath through his nose in surprise, then embraced her, running his arms up her back. She shuddered, grazing her teeth on his bottom lip, before pressing her tongue against his lips, encouraging him to open for her. She tangled her tongue with his, exploring the wet warmth as she wound her hands into his hair.

They broke apart, both panting, then met again. The scratch of his beard against her face was so masculine, and she moaned gently into his mouth before pulling back.

"Come inside," she said, leaning in to kiss him again, grinding her hips against his, fully aware of how aroused he was.

"Ngh," he responded. "I can't. Not yet. I am not so bold as you are."

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll let you go tonight. But I do want you."

"You are not making it easy," he said, crushing her to him with another searing kiss. "But I must."

Maggie took a step back.

"Tomorrow?" she asked hopefully. "We have one more day before we leave. Spend it with me."

"I will," he promised. "Now go, before I can't let you."

Maggie lifted her skirt, and took quick steps up the hallway to her door.

Boromir leaned back against the wall, running a hand through his hair, as he watched her go.

He laughed.

She was still wearing her black boots.

...

A/N: And so it begins. As I said, I haven't written any fanfiction since circa 1999, so this is a new endeavour for me. I hope it satisfies. Things are going to heat up a bit as we go on, so brace yourselves. I probably won't be able to update again until the middle of next week, but I'll do my best!

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favourited. You guys are awesome.

Last chapter's song: The Bitter End by Placebo


	5. You leave 'em laughing when you go

A/N: This chapter contains some hanky panky. Be forewarned, things get pretty hot and heavy. But then, you knew that from the rating.

...

Chapter Five - You leave 'em laughing when you go

...

Maggie flopped down face first on her bed, and squealed, rather ridiculously, into a pillow. She felt giddy in a way she hadn't in years.

She rolled onto her back and touched her fingers to her lips, still swollen from the kisses, still tingling from the newness and excitement. Her body felt like it was on fire, and she took a few deep breaths to cool herself down. Her mind raced as she undressed and slipped under the covers, pressing her hot cheek against the cool pillow, and crept into sleep.

For the first night since she'd arrived, she didn't dream of sounds of the hospital, the whirr-click of a respirator and gentle beeping of a heart monitor.

...

Boromir leaned against the wall outside Maggie's room for a few moments, trying to collect himself. The temptation to just follow her to bed had been overwhelming, but he knew it was too soon for that. He wanted to court her properly, to enjoy the slow burn of the fuse leading up to the explosion.

When he had willed his heated flesh to calm down, he headed back to his chambers, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

...

The next morning, the two sat next to each other at breakfast as usual. Aragorn immediately noticed the change in energy between them, and Maggie suspected the overly-perceptive elf figured it out as well. The hobbits and Gimli were largely oblivious, and Gandalf was not present. Aragorn caught Maggie's eye and gave her a saucy wink. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed as he bit into an apple with a flourish.

After breakfast, Boromir and Maggie headed out into the woods on the edge of the Elvish settlement, still well within the borders of Rivendell, but much quieter and private than any of the gardens in the city. When they moved out of view of the rest of the fellowship, Boromir offered Maggie his arm, and they walked that way until they reached a clearing in the woods.

Maggie sat down on a rock, watching dust motes dancing in the rays of morning sunset filtering through the canopy of leaves. Boromir sat down beside her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"This is the last day before we leave," she said. "We aren't going to have much time for... well, for this, until this quest is over."

"I know," he replied. "Though I am glad that we will have today, and whatever stolen moments we can find along the way."

"I'm very good at stealing moments," Maggie said smugly. "Moment thief, that's what they call me."

He snickered, and she placed her hand on his cheek, and leaned in to kiss him. She felt the brush of his beard on her face, and slid her hand up to tangle in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her and gathered her to him, deepening the kiss. She gently raked her fingernails along his scalp, eliciting a hiss from him, and she smiled into his mouth.

He broke off the kiss, and pulled back to look at her swollen lips and sparkling blue-grey eyes. He memorized the smattering of freckles across her nose, her delicate cheekbones and pale reddish-brown eyelashes. She slid her hand down his neck to rest on his chest, feeling the fluttering of his heart under her fingertips. She used her other hand to tuck his hair behind his ear, and then leaned in to kiss up his neck, and nipped his earlobe gently.

"Mmm," she murmured, her breath hot against his neck. His hands slipped around her waist, sliding down to settle on the slight curve of her hips. She gently kissed along his jawline, before capturing his lips in another searing kiss. He pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers and smiling down at her. Maggie slid down into the grass, and pulled him down with her. She pushed him onto his back, and settled in the crook of his arm, her head on his shoulder and her hands caressing his chest.

They spent the rest of the morning that way, nestled against each other, talking, kissing gently, just enjoying being in each other's company for as long as they could.

...

Maggie returned to her room after her morning in the woods, and began to pack up everything she would need. She decided to transfer what little clothing she had into her medical backpack, rather than bringing the duffel with her. She left her pyjamas behind - they wouldn't be of much use to her on the road anyway. She also sorted through her medical supplies and removed things that were unlikely to be helpful, as she didn't expect to be performing any intubations. She wrapped everything that wasn't waterproof in the empty plastic grocery bags from her truck, because wet socks and marching were a recipe for trench foot. She dumped out the contents of the side pocket of her bag, and chose to leave behind her wallet and keys. She opted to keep her phone and earbuds. She also kept her secreted, precious pack of cigarettes. She wasn't a frequent smoker, but she knew that the stress of the upcoming journey would probably have her sucking on a cancer stick before too long.

When she'd repacked everything to her satisfaction, Maggie zipped her bag shut, and headed down to dinner with the rest of the fellowship.

...

Elrond and Arwen were both at dinner that night, trying to make sure that all last-minute preparations were being taken care of. Maggie informed them that she had already packed everything she needed. Elrond presented her with a book of herb lore - astoundingly not written in Elvish - that had been prepared especially for her by Maeweth in the past month. She made a note to go and visit the healer-elf before she left, to thank her. Along with the book was a small kit of Elvish tinctures and poultices to supplement her modern medical supplies.

She thanked Elrond profusely.

"I only hope you have little need of this," he said practically.

"I don't think we're getting out of this without a few bumps and scrapes," she replied. "Hopefully nothing too major, though. I can sew up holes, but field surgery is a bit beyond me."

As the others prepared to go to bed, Arwen led her aside to one of the gardens, smiling a secret, knowing smile.

"So?" the elf asked, raising one elegantly arched eyebrow in Maggie's direction.

"So?" Maggie replied, her inner smartass taking the reins. "We kissed."

The elf let out a little squeak of delight. "I'm very happy for you," she said. "And, to be honest, quite a bit jealous. You get to travel with them. I do not know when I will see Aragorn again."

"Soon enough," Maggie smirked at her. "Trust me on that. And he will be safe with me. I promise."

"I will hold you to that promise," Arwen nodded. "Please, encourage him as much as you can. He has it within him to be a great king, but he lacks the confidence in himself."

"Am I allowed to tease him mercilessly too?" Maggie asked, chuckling. "I know a silly little song about not being able to wait to be king."

"Oh, you can torment him as much as your heart desires," Arwen laughed. "I won't be around to, so it rests on your shoulders. You'll have to teach me this song."

Maggie burst into laughter at the idea of teaching an elegant elf songs from a Disney film.

"Someday I will. Someday."

...

Maggie woke particularly early, just as the sun was creeping up. She'd gotten into the habit of being an early riser in the army, because everyone was, and rarely slept in unless she was sick. She rolled up the plaid wool blanket from her truck and tucked it through the straps of her bag, looking mournfully at the pillows she knew she was going to miss. She was pretty used to sleeping anywhere, if she had to, but there was definitely a preference for a nice, soft bed.

She pulled on her hoodie against the morning chill, and tucked her dog tags under her tank top. Her handgun was holstered at her belt, and she shouldered her bag and rifle to head down to breakfast.

Upon arrival, she noted that everyone had nearly completed their preparations. The hobbits all had cumbersome backpacks that included things like frying pans, and the two Men were carrying swords and armour. Aragorn was back in his Ranger gear, having favoured Elvish tunics during their wait in Rivendell. Boromir had his chain mail on, and his cloak fastened at his neck. Legolas stood quietly off to one side, his quiver and bow strapped to his back.

Several elves came to see them off, including Elrond, Arwen, and the twins. Maggie wrapped her female elf friend in a tight hug, kissing her cheek and leaning to whisper reassurances into her ear. The elf fought back tears, as she released her human friend and embraced her lover.

Maggie bowed to Elrond. "I thank you for your hospitality and gifts," she said formally.

"You will always be welcome in Rivendell, Lady Maggie," he replied.

"You know, my friends call me Mags. Sometimes Maggers," she teased. He made a face.

She then walked up to the twin dark-haired elves.

"Give me your fist," she said to one of them. He complied, confused, and she bumped it with her own. "It's a greeting from my world. We call it, rather obviously, a fistbump." The second twin followed suit, holding back a chuckle. "I trust the two of you to make this the new thing to do around here," she laughed. "And be nice to your sister. I don't want to have to whup you when I come back."

After the goodbyes were finished, Frodo led the fellowship out of the Elvish city, and back into the wild.

...

"We must hold to this course west of the misty Mountains for forty days. If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there, our road turns east, to Mordor," Gandalf instructed, as the group walked along a high ridge in the fading sun.

Maggie kept pace easily, walking at the head of the party with Gandalf and Aragorn. Boromir brought up the rear behind the hobbits, encouraging them as they fell behind. Aragorn seemed a little sullen, and everyone was tired. Maggie wandered ahead a little bit, scouting out a good camping spot. She could see a pond bubbling up from a spring in the distance, probably about a click away. She walked back, and nudged Aragorn.

"We should stop there tonight," she said. "The hobbits will grow used to travelling on foot soon, but they are tired, and there is fresh water ahead."

"I agree," he said.

They rolled out the camp quickly, in a clearing about a five-minute walk from the pond. Once the campfire was started, Maggie dragged a fallen log over to it and dropped her pack beside it. She flopped down next to the campfire, and Sam started preparing dinner. Maggie had explained the concept of pemmican to Elrond, who had prepared some of the Native American high-protein jerky for quick meals on the go, but the hobbits had also packed more traditional foods, including sausages and bread, a plate of which Frodo soon passed to her. She ate thoughtfully, staring into the flames. After dinner, she gathered up the plates and went to the pond with Sam to wash up.

"Miss Maggie?" Sam asked tentatively. "Do you think Mister Frodo will make it to Mordor?"

"Just Maggie, Sam," Maggie smiled at him. "And don't worry. He will. And you'll go with him to the end. It won't be easy, I can tell you that now, but I promise you, everything will work out."

"I hope so," Sam said. "I've never been this far away from home in my life, and I'm not really much for adventures."

"That seems to be more of a Baggins trait," Maggie laughed. "You'll do fine. Just keep your wits about you, and everything will work out."

They gathered up the dishes and returned to the campfire, where Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli and the hobbits were smoking their pipes. Maggie, smelling the tobacco, dug out one of her cigarettes and lit it, taking a puff and sighing as she exhaled.

"You smoke?" asked Pippin, incredulously.

"Not often," she admitted. "But you spend enough time in high-stress situations like me and the boys at the firehouse do back home, and you sometimes need one to calm yourself down."

"What is it?" asked Merry.

"It's called a cigarette," Maggie explained. "It's basically shredded pipe-weed rolled up in a piece of paper. You can smoke one pretty quickly, and you don't have to clean it out like a pipe."

"Hmm," said Merry. "Can I try it?"

"If I can try your pipe," Maggie said. She scooted over to him, and handed him the cigarette. She showed him how to hold it, and took a puff from the pipe, rolling the smoke around in her mouth. Merry coughed, and reached for his pipe. Maggie took back her cigarette.

"I think I prefer the pipe," he admitted.

"I agree. They add a lot of things into these, your pipe-weed is a lot more natural and pure. We call it tobacco back home. It's addictive, you know. There's a substance in it called nicotine, and you get hooked on it."

She took another drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke out of her nose, and flicked the ash off.

"I think they all stink," Legolas said, waving his hand around to disperse the smoke. "No elf would dare to put such poison in their lungs."

"Well, you elves are pretty smart," Maggie conceded. "I spend a lot of my time hanging around with men who run in and out of fires, though, and we breathe enough smoke at work that we all kind of figure we might as well breathe the kind that feels good."

"Fair enough," the elf conceded. "It still smells."

Maggie chuckled.

Soon after, everyone settled in to sleep. Aragorn took the first watch, and they agreed to split it up in two hour sessions so everyone could sleep.

...

Gimli shook the slight girl awake when her turn came to take the watch. He felt odd doing so, but she seemed much stronger than most of the women he encountered. She yawned and stretched, nodding at him.

"Go and get some sleep," she said. "The sun will be coming up soon, and we'll have to pack up. I'll wake everyone up when it's time."

"Are you sure you want to do this, lass?" the dwarf asked. "I do not mind staying awake longer."

"Nah, I'm fine," she waved her hand at him. "I was in the military. Everyone took their turn on watch. I'm used to it. Go on, sleep."

The dwarf nodded at her, and headed over to where his blankets were spread out.

Maggie climbed up a branch of a low tree, and settled back with her plaid blanket to watch the sun rise.

...

After half an hour, the light was enough that Maggie decided to chance getting clean in the pond. She stripped down, and stepped into the water, bending down to pull water over her arms and legs. She'd smuggled a piece of Elvish soap and a small cloth, so she gave herself a quick bath. She dunked her head under the water, rinsing out the sweat of the day before, and swam around a little bit. The water was pretty cold, but being Canadian, she was no stranger to this particular phenomenon.

As she stepped out of the water and shook herself off, she looked up and met the eyes of Boromir as he walked up the path to the pond.

"Er, I apologize," he said, averting his eyes and blushing. "I was not spying, I swear."

Maggie smirked at him, crossing her arms. His eyes darted down to her chest, where her nipples were puckered from the cold. He looked away again quickly. She laughed.

He looked up at her in wonder, this girl who was standing in front of him stark naked, soaking wet, and laughing at him. She turned around, and waded back into the pond.

"You coming in?" she said. "Who knows when you might have the chance to get clean again."

He looked around wildly. "You should dress!" he exclaimed. "What if someone else wakes up and sees you?"

"Eh," she shrugged. "We're going to be marching across the universe for the next couple of months. They are probably going to see me in my birthday suit at some point. The longer everyone acts like it makes a difference that I'm a girl, the more awkward it'll be."

"But it does make a difference," he insisted.

"Yeah, to you," she retorted. "But I kiss you. I don't kiss the others. Seriously, it doesn't matter. If it really bothers you, though, I'll put my underwear back on."

"No," he shook his head. "I don't want you traipsing around in wet underclothes and catching cold."

"You don't actually catch a cold from being cold," she said, floating on her back in the water. "You can get hypothermia, but it's not cold enough for that."

He looked at her strangely.

"Look, you coming in or not? I have soap."

"Soap," he echoed. "Okay."

"I'll turn around," she said, and swam off a little way before diving under the water.

She heard him splash into the water behind her, and turned around.

"This is freezing," he said. "You must be mad."

"Pfft," she replied. "Chicken."

"I am not a chicken!" he replied indignantly. "I'm in the water, am I not?"

She splashed him in response. He tackled her, and they both went under the water. She came up spluttering with laughter. He looked at the water trailing down her face, making her eyelashes stick together, and laughed too.

She then pressed herself up against him and kissed him. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, her hands sliding up his arms to encircle his biceps. He drew in a sharp breath.

"We should not do this," he said.

"Nope," she responded, pulling his head down for another kiss. He moaned into her mouth, wrapping his arms around her and crushing her to him. They pulled apart, panting, and Maggie swam to retrieve her soap and cloth from a rock near the edge. She lathered up the cloth, and began to run it over his back. He shivered in response, as she massaged the sore muscles and cleaned away the grime And sweat. She moved around in front of him, and began working on his chest, giving his left nipple a playful flick as she ran her hand over his chest.

"Ow," he said flatly. She rinsed her cloth and cleared off the lather, and bent to kiss the injured nipple. He took the cloth from her and continued to clean off, eyeing her warily as she swam in happy circles around him. When he had finished, he returned her treasured soap and cloth to the rock, spreading the cloth out so it might dry a bit in the morning sun.

She embraced him again, entangling her hands in his wet hair and kissing him firmly. He hissed out as she nibbled his bottom lip, and then trailed kisses down his neck. She pulled his hips against hers in a sharp motion, and he threw his head back at the contact. He glanced down bashfully.

"Now look what you've done to me," he whispered. In response, she gripped him under the water. "UNGH."

"I could fix this for you," she said, giving him a tentative stroke.

"You have no idea how tempting that is," he replied, panting. "Are you sure?"

"Come here, then," she took his hand, and led him to a rock that was behind some rushes, away from the view from the path to the camp. She would be able to see or hear someone approaching long before they saw them. She instructed him to lean against the rock, the water lapping around his thighs. She then knelt in front of him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding almost panicked.

"This," she said, engulfing the head of his erection in her mouth. He tried desperately not to cry out.

"Oh," he said weakly, and heard her chuckle. She slid her hot, wet mouth along his length, sucking in her cheeks and swirling her tongue over the tip. Nothing had ever, ever felt like this, and his breath came in gasps as he tangled his hands in her hair. He couldn't stop his hips from thrusting forward, so she gripped the base with one hand, the other gently fondling his balls. He moaned softly as she sucked on him, making her own sounds of pleasure.

"Oh," he said again. "I'm... I'm close." Maggie murmured in recognition, but didn't stop flicking her tongue over him. He tried to pull her head back, but she gripped his hips tightly and stayed with him as the stars exploded white hot behind his eyes and he made a strangled cry deep in his throat.

When she released him and he collapsed backwards, sitting down on the rock, she stepped towards him and smiled shyly.

"Guh," was the only thing he could think of to say.

"I agree," she teased, and kissed him. "Come. We should get dressed before the others wake."

...

A/N: So there you have it. I am so happy people are reading this, and get a little giddy whenever my phone bleeps with an email notification. I haven't really written smut in... well, ever... so hopefully it's not too bad. I tried to go for 'hot, but tasteful'. We'll see.

Song of last chapter: Technically a song, sort of. Suicide, by Bobby Gaylor.


	6. Beloved, gaze in thine own heart

A/N: Been a bit of a hectic week so far. Hopefully I can update again before the weekend, but writing time has been scarce.

Huge thank you to everyone who has read, favourited, reviewed, and followed. I started out writing this for me, but you are encouraging me to write faster.

I'm using Movie Time in this story. I realise my time frame is probably skewed to hell, but whatever. Stole some content directly from the script.

Gets smutty at the end.

...

Chapter Six - Beloved, gaze in thine own heart

...

Boromir and Maggie returned to the camp to rouse the others. After a quick breakfast, the others took advantage of the opportunity to wash, with a little encouragement from Maggie.

They walked for a few hours, before settling in an outcropping of rocks to rest for a bit. Boromir spent some time fooling around with Merry and Pippin, teaching them to use their swords to some measure of effectiveness.

"Good, very good," Boromir praised, dancing forward to slash at the hobbit, who parried it with ease.

"Move your feet," said Aragorn, from where he was perched, smoking his pipe.

"You look good, Pippin," Merry chimed in.

"Thanks!" Pippin tossed over his shoulder, as Merry joined the fray. Maggie smiled to herself and leaned back on the rock, soaking up the warmth of the morning sun.

"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note that they're not, I'd say that we were taking the long way round," Gimli was sitting off to the side, talking to the wizard. "Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome."

"No Gimli, I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice," the wizard rumbled.

As the dwarf and the wizard spoke, Legolas darted up and shielded his eyes with his hand. Distracted by the movement, Boromir's sword slipped and nicked Pippin's hand.

"Agh!" said Pippin.

"Sorry!" Boromir reached for his hand to check the wound. Just then, with a mischievous smirk, Pippin kicked Boromir in the leg.

"Get him!" Merry squealed. The two hobbits pounced on the man and wrestled him to the ground. Maggie hid her laugh behind her hand as Boromir met her eyes helplessly as Pippin sat on his chest.

"For the Shire!" Pippin exclaimed. "Hold him! Hold him down, Merry!"

Boromir laughed, as the tussling continued. Aragorn stood and headed over to help out the other man.

"Gentlemen, that's enough," he said, grabbing hold of the hobbits. Instead, they wrapped themselves around his legs and knocked him over as well.

"Ha!" Maggie snorted. "Serves you right!"

"You've got my arm! Argh!" Pippin shrieked. "You've got my arm!"

"What is that?" Sam said, standing up and walking over to where Legolas was scanning the horizon.

"Nothing," replied Gimli. "It's just a wisp of cloud."

Boromir, having extracted himself from the scuffle with Aragorn's help, took a look. "It's moving fast, against the wind."

"Shit," said Maggie, under her breath.

"Crebain!" Legolas exclaimed. "From Dunland!"

"Hide!" Aragorn yelled. Maggie doused the fire, and grabbed Pippin and Merry, diving under the rocks, shielding them with her body.

"Frodo, take cover!" Aragorn grabbed his sword and rolled underneath a rock.

The flock of black birds circled overhead, then rushed off.

"Spies of Saruman," Gandalf said, as they emerged from their hiding places. "The passage south is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras."

"Good thing I grew up in the coldest place on Earth," Maggie muttered.

She took a look at Pippin's hand, slathering it in antibiotic ointment and bandaging it, while everyone gathered their things. They set off.

...

Caradhras was not as far as Maggie would have expected. She desperately wished she had a good ice axe and a pair of crampons, but at the very least, being used to the cold, she was comfortable enough. She'd put on a second pair of socks, tucked her camo pants into her boots, and wrapped her tartan blanket around herself like a shawl. The look might have clashed a bit, but at least it was warm. She tugged her cowboy hat lower on her head, and trudged forward. She, Boromir and Aragorn were taking turns in front, stamping down the snow so that the hobbits could manage to walk through it without too much trouble. Legolas just nanced on top of it, and Maggie had to resist the urge to thwack him.

After a little while, Frodo stumbled and fell, rolling a little way down an incline.

"Frodo," Aragorn said, walking over to set him on his feet. The hobbit brushed himself off. Boromir, a little further up the mountain, had picked up the Ring, hanging onto the chain.

"Boromir," Aragorn warned, his hand going slightly to the hilt of his sword. Maggie caught his eye and shook her head. He nodded at her once, releasing it.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing," Boromir said, reaching out to touch the ring. "Such a little thing."

Maggie let out a shrill whistle between two fingers. Boromir snapped to attention.

"Give the ring to Frodo," Aragorn instructed.

"As you wish," Boromir said, handing the chain back to the hobbit, ruffling Frodo's hair as he passed. "I care not."

They continued walking. At Boromir's next turn to clear snow, Maggie hung back and spoke to Aragorn in a low voice.

"I know it seems that he is tempted by the Ring," she murmured. Aragorn nodded. "It has a stronger pull on some than others, but none of us are immune. Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

"I remember what he said at the council," Aragorn said. "I know none can use the Ring against Sauron, but I still think he may be tempted to try."

"Tempted, yes. But I will speak to him of the dangers again. He trusts me."

...

Not long after, a strange noise sounded from above. Legolas walked to the edge of the cliff.

"There is a fell voice on the air," he said.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf shouted.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn yelled. "Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"No!" Gandalf exclaimed. He stepped to the edge near Legolas, and brandished his staff. "Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith!"

A streak of lightning flashed through the sky, and struck the top of the mountain, sending a shower of snow tumbling down.

"Protect your heads!" Maggie screamed, wrapping her arms over her own and falling into a braced crouch.

The snow rained down on them, burying them all in the powder. Legolas dug his way out first, and Maggie scrambled up soon after. The two men and Gandalf followed, and they all dug out the shorter members of the group within moments. Maggie brushed the snow from her eyelashes, and coughed.

"We must get off the mountain!" Boromir exclaimed. "Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn argued.

"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it," Gimli chimed in. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

Gandalf looked worried, and glanced at Maggie. She nodded.

"Let the Ringbearer decide," he said.

"We cannot stay here," Boromir said. "It will be the death of the hobbits."

Maggie walked over to where Merry and Pippin were shivering, and bent forward, taking a cloth towel from her bag and rubbing heat back into their feet. She assessed them for frostbite, though hobbit feet seemed pretty resilient.

"Can you feel them?" she murmured. They nodded, and she went to work on Sam, who seemed a little hardier and less prone to cold.

"Frodo?" Gandalf prompted, as Maggie worked.

"We will go through the mines," he said hesitantly.

"So be it," said Gandalf.

...

They managed to make it to the bottom of the mountain before dusk. Everyone was cold and damp, as well as exhausted. Maggie and Aragorn built a roaring fire, and everyone stripped out of the worst of their wet clothes to dry near the fire.

"I feel like we're playing a game of strip poker," Maggie joked, forgetting that no one would understand that.

"What?" Merry said.

"Oh. It's a game, played with cards. You gamble with pieces of your clothing, so everyone ends up mostly naked at the end."

"I imagine it takes a fair amount of drink to entice most to play this game," Gimli chuckled.

"Sometimes," she chuckled. "But bluffing is a big part of the game, and I'm good at that. So quite a few times I've been sitting there with only my socks and sweater off while everyone else is in their underwear."

Once they'd dried off a bit, Sam started preparing dinner. He'd found some herbs and some form of root vegetable nearby, and set about making a hearty stew. As he worked, with some input from Pippin, the men and Maggie set up comfortable spots to sit and recline against the rocks. Maggie took another look at Pippin's injured hand, which seemed to be healing well. She removed the bandage and tossed it in the fire.

"Why do you not wash the bandages to use them again?" Boromir asked. "It seems like a waste."

Maggie tried not to boggle at him. "There are so many things that could be passed through the blood, infections and diseases. It would be very, very risky to reuse a dressing. And I have a good amount with me, anyway, so I doubt we'll need to reuse anything," she explained. "Hygiene is genuinely the best way to prevent illness from spreading and wounds from becoming infected. Boiled, hot water and soap go a long way to save lives."

Aragorn looked thoughtful. "The Elves are particular about cleanliness in their medicine. This is not always true of the other races."

"They've had much more time to experiment and explore," Maggie said. "But a little knowledge goes a long way. Perhaps someday we can spread this information to all corners of Middle Earth."

Gandalf smiled at her. "It is good to see one so interested in knowledge. Are many women educated where you are from?"

"Not in all parts of the world," she said sadly. "There is a lot of poverty that limits the ability of women to get a good education, and ignorance leads to a lot of abuse. I live in a very progressive country. The quality of life is high, and access to education is almost universal. Women can do nearly any job a man can do, physically or mentally. Don't underestimate women. If you place knowledge and power in the hands of women, amazing things happen."

The all-male entourage looked curiously at her.

"I'll make feminists out of you all yet," she joked. "You've seen what I can do. Imagine what your mothers, sisters, and daughters could do, if you give them the chance. A woman is not what her society sees her as. She is what she sees herself as. Encouragement and support go a long way."

Aragorn smiled at her. "Arwen is a powerful woman. And I will take your words to heart if she should become my wife someday."

"The war that I fought was in a country where women are very repressed," Maggie explained. "Many of them are expected to be covered from head to toe, with only a tiny space for them to see out of. Many of them feel invisible. Most aren't allowed to work, except to do jobs like sewing from home. And there is a lot of violence," she sighed. "A woman who is raped by a man can be stoned to death for adultery. Young women have their genitals mutilated, due to some misguided theory that it will make them faithful to their husbands. Young children are married to much older men. There is a lot about my world that is far from perfect, and evil exists everywhere. But often, evil in my world persists because of ignorance. I fought in that war in the hope of liberating some of those women. We had to remove the men who were in power."

The fellowship looked at her, both captivated and disturbed. She shook her head.

"Don't mind my rambling," she said. "I get a little fired up about this. Why don't we do something else, maybe a little more fun? A game? A song?"

"I know songs!" Pippin piped up. He launched into a Shire drinking song, which Merry and Frodo joined in on, Sam laughing a little too hard to contribute. Maggie leaned back and chuckled.

"I could probably find a song to suit every one of you," Maggie joked. "Music is very popular in my world, and I probably know a few hundred songs."

"Oh?" Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "So, tell me, what's my song?"

Maggie snickered. "Well, we could try 'I Just Can't Wait to be King'..."

He made a face at her, and she doubled over laughing.

"Oh, I need to hear this, now," Merry said, looking between the two. Pippin nodded vigorously.

"I did promise Arwen I would tease you," Maggie said, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. "Now, this song is from a... play... of sorts. It's about a lion who is going to be king. He's very young at the beginning."

"Lion?" Pippin asked.

"It's a huge cat. Like bigger than a wolf," she took a stick and made a crude sketch in the dirt.

"Come on, let's hear it!" Frodo said.

"I'm not much of a singer, I warn you," she smiled. "But all right."

She launched into the Elton John version of Disney song with gusto, tapping her knee to get the beat going. Her voice was a little gravelly, but pleasant enough. Merry and Pippin started dancing around as she launched into the chorus, and even Aragorn had to laugh. She sang the chorus a second time, and gave up when she was laughing too hard, and forgot the rest of the lyrics.

Boromir wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, booming with laughter, and Legolas clapped Aragorn on the back.

"We tease because we love you," Maggie said, as he ducked his head in embarassment. "But I could probably keep you entertained for hours with the stories that go with some of these songs. They call them fairy tales."

"You will have to tell us some of these fairy tales," Boromir said. "Entertainment on the road."

Pippin yawned widely. Merry chuckled.

"You don't happen to know any lullabies, do you?" he joked.

"A few," she smirked. "Shall I sing you to sleep?"

"I haven't been sung to sleep since I was a wee thing," Pippin said, settling back into his cloak. "I certainly wouldn't mind."

"Well, you'll probably like this one," Maggie smiled. "It was one of my grandmother's favourite songs, based on a very old poem. She listened to it all the time when I was younger. It's called 'The Two Trees'."

"Like the Two Trees of Valinor?" Legolas breathed. "I should like to hear this song."

Her she began to hum the violin opening to the song, and then her raspy voice lowered softly.

"Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,

The holy tree is growing there;

From joy the holy branches start,

And all the trembling flowers they bear.

The changing colours of its fruit

Have dowered the stars with merry light;

The surety of its hidden root

Has planted quiet in the night;

The shaking of its leafy head

Has given the waves their melody,

And made my lips and music wed,

Murmuring a wizard song for thee.

There the Loves a circle go,

The flaming circle of our days,

Gyring, spiring to and fro

In those great ignorant leafy ways;

Remembering all that shaken hair

And how the wingèd sandals dart,

Thine eyes grow full of tender care:

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.

Gaze no more in the bitter glass

The demons, with their subtle guile,

Lift up before us when they pass,

Or only gaze a little while;

For there a fatal image grows

That the stormy night receives,

Roots half hidden under the snows,

Broken boughs and blackened leaves.

For all things turn to barrenness

In the dim glass the demons hold,

The glass of outer weariness,

Made when God slept in times of old.

There, through the broken branches, go

The ravens of unresting thought;

Flying, crying, to and fro,

Cruel claw and hungry throat,

Or else they stand and sniff the wind,

And shake their ragged wings; alas!

Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:

Gaze no more in the bitter glass."

When she looked up, the hobbits, Gandalf and Gimli were all sleeping, and Legolas was looking at her with shining eyes. The two men, Legolas, and Maggie all moved well away from the fire, so as not to disturb them while talking. It was getting dark, but not quite night yet.

"You shall have to teach me this song," Legolas said.

"I'm not much of a singer," she said softly. "I don't really do it justice. It needs someone with a much sweeter voice than I have."

"All the same," he replied. "The words are stirring. I will teach you some Elvish songs, if I can remember the ones that have been translated into the common tongue. Do you like poetry?"

"Yes, very much."

"She spoke of a very powerful poem when we first met," Boromir interjected. "When she was explaining her skin markings."

"I admit I have been curious about those," Legolas said. Maggie launched into an explanation about the mechanics of tattoos, and the significance of her own, and with prompting from Boromir, recited 'In Flander's Fields' for them.

"I should like to hear more of your songs," Legolas said.

"Though perhaps no more teasing ones about kings?" Aragorn added hopefully. Maggie chuckled.

"Oh, I have quite a repertoire. But if I have to think of songs for you? I probably have more love songs for you and Arwen than anything else."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, and Maggie chuckled. She thought about the irony of singing an Aerosmith song to him, considering who played Arwen in the films, but it would be appropriate. She started to sing 'I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing', a lot more softly and quietly than Steven Tyler would have, considering that there were slumbering people nearby, and also considering that she didn't have the vocal chops to pull off his screaming notes.

"I like this song better," Aragorn said, when she'd finished. She smiled at him.

"I had a feeling you would," she chuckled. Aragorn yawned and stretched.

"Who wants first watch?" he asked.

"I will do it," Legolas offered. "Then I will wake you, then Boromir, then Maggie, then Gimli. Is that acceptable?"

"Works for me," Maggie said, giving a secret wink to Boromir. He lowered his eyes shyly.

Those who were headed for sleep went to make themselves comfortable, and Legolas climbed up on a rock ledge to keep watch.

...

A gentle shaking roused Maggie from her sleep. She blearily opened her eyes, and smiled slightly when she saw Boromir gazing down at her. She rubbed the sleep out of the corners of her eyes, sitting up and stretching.

"My turn, eh?" she whispered. He nodded. She crawled out of her sleeping place, pulling her sweatshirt tighter around herself, and headed for the same rock ledge Legolas had perched on. It was cool away from the embers of the campfire, and the night sky was very clear.

Boromir followed her.

"You should get some sleep," she said. He smiled at her.

"I can risk a few stolen moments," he replied, and sat down behind her, pulling her to his chest. She wrapped the blanket around the two of them, and cuddled into his warmth, yawning. She turned onto her side, and put her hand on his chest, feeling the gentle reassuring thud of his heartbeat under her hand.

She trailed it up his neck, brushing it against the bristles of his stubble, and tracing the outline of his ear, smiling when he exhaled sharply. She tangled her fingers in his hair, and pulled his face down to hers to kiss him.

He broke away first, resting his forehead against hers.

"You are like an addiction," he said. She smiled at him.

"Did you enjoy what I did to you this morning?" she smirked, gazing into his eyes. He blushed slightly, and smiled shyly.

"Very much," he said. "Almost too much."

She turned around, snuggling back against his chest. She traced the inside of his thigh, her fingers moving circles on the tender skin. She heard him suppress a moan.

"Touch me," she whispered, taking his hand and slipping it under her sweater and shirt, against her stomach. He pulled her closer against him, and slid his fingers over her taut abdominal muscles. She urged him upwards with a gentle nudge, and his fingers slipped over her bra, feeling her nipples hardening through the lace. He cupped her breasts with his hands, rolling his fingers over the tight buds.

"Mmm," she said softly. "I like that."

He brought his face down to her neck and began kissing his way down to her collarbone, sucking gently. She leaned her head back on his shoulder. He continued to explore her breasts, and eventually slipped his hand down over her abdomen, brushing against her waistband.

"I want you to teach me how to pleasure you," he whispered. "I want to make you feel how you made me feel."

She shuddered, and undid her belt and zip, and took his hand. She slipped his fingers down under her panties, and into her slick folds. He could barely stop himself from moaning into her shoulder, feeling how wet she was for him. He ground his erection into her behind. She guided his fingers over her clit, and used his fingers to circle it.

"This?" she said, as she drew his finger back over it. "Is the magic spot."

"I'll remember that," he said. She steered him further downwards, shifting herself into a better position, and slid his index finger inside, the heel of his hand pressing into her clit with delicious friction.

It was becoming almost too much for him, as she used his hands to build her own pleasure. He was so hard it was almost painful, and he kneaded her breast with his free hand. She let out a gasp as he added another finger and curled them inside her. His hot breath against her ear and his erection grinding into her back sent her careening towards the edge with record speed. He slipped his fingers out and began to circle her clit again, rubbing her with her own wetness.

"Oh," she gasped. "Don't stop."

"Yes," he whispered, as he moved his fingers even faster. The heat spread from between her legs, up her body, and she came with a shudder and a gasp, rocking against his hand. He leaned back, dazed.

When she came down from the high, she pulled his hand from between her legs, and, turning to look at him with a devilish grin, and sucked her own slickness from his fingers.

The erotic sight and reminder of what she'd done to him that morning was torture. He gasped and threw his head back.

"Please," he said, looking into her eyes. "I need you."

She smiled, kissing him, the heady taste of her intoxicating him as she palmed him through his clothes. She moved them out of the way, and lowered her head.

"Aah!" he threw his head back as her hot mouth engulfed him. She sucked her cheeks in, and swirled her tongue. He could not even pretend to hold back, and spilled into her mouth within seconds with a groan. She held onto him as he gasped in breaths, and released him to lay her head on his stomach.

"Look at what you've done to me," he murmured, pulling her up to rest on his chest. "I can barely last after watching you."

"Mmm," she smiled at him. "Just wait until you're inside me."

He shuddered at the thought, and she rubbed her hand over his well-defined abdominal muscles.

"You should get some sleep," she said.

"I know," he said. "I do not want to leave you, though."

"Well," she replied. "Don't."

He arched an eyebrow at her. She moved off of him, and leaned back against the rock, opening her arms to him.

"I can keep watch while you sleep. Just lean against me."

He moved beside her and curled up, his head pillowed on her lap. He wrapped his cloak tight around himself, and she covered his shoulders with the blanket.

She looked up at the stars, stroking his hair gently, as he fell asleep in her lap.

...

A/N: Last chapter's song: Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell


	7. Two days nearer death

A/N: This chapter will be short, and pretty much straight out of the film. I've sped up time a bit, because the mines are pretty action packed, so I want to get through this to the next chapter, which will be Lothlorien - and more fun and smut.

I banged this out in about an hour, I hope I'll get a chance to update again before the end of the weekend. :) Greetings to all of my new readers, and to those who are sticking with me, you rule. Seriously. If you came to my house, I would make you cupcakes.

Oh yeah, you might have noticed that I kind of wander between Canadian spelling and American spelling. I was born in Canada, went to elementary school in Oregon, and high school in Canada, so I get stupidly confused. I apologize if any inconsistencies bother the grammar nazis amongst us. Derp.

...

Chapter Seven - And every day you're in this place you're two days nearer death

...

Maggie rolled her blanket into a pillow and slid it under Boromir's head, slipping her legs out from where he was sleeping on her lap. She stood up, rubbing the prickly feeling out of her thighs, and headed over to wake up Gimli for his turn on watch.

The dwarf wasn't the easiest person in the fellowship to awaken, but she managed to do it without too much trouble.

"I'll get the fire stoked," he said. "Little more than an hour before sunrise. Get some sleep, lass."

"I'll try," she said, and curled up on the ground close to the fire, her head leaning against a rock. Her ability to sleep just about anywhere kicked in quickly, and she woke from her catnap feeling refreshed.

After a quick breakfast, everyone banded together to pack up the camp.

"I hope we shall reach the mines by nightfall," Gandalf said, picking up his staff and heading to take the lead. "It will be a long day, and we will not rest much."

Maggie performed a few stretches, and showed the hobbits how to do the same to help keep their muscles from tiring too much. She jumped up and down, shaking off the morning chill, and shouldered her bag.

...

As they walked tightly through a rocky valley, Gandalf dropped to the back, and Aragorn and Maggie took the lead. She could hear him murmuring to Frodo, undoubtedly encouraging him to trust in himself.

"Ah!" Gimli stopped suddenly, pointing. "The walls of Moria!" He walked close to the cliff face and tapped it with his axe. "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed."

"Yes, Gimli," Gandalf said, nearing to where the dwarf stood. "Their own masters cannot find them, if their secrets are forgotten."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Legolas teased, giving Maggie a nudge. Gimli scoffed in response.

They continued on, pressed close against the wall. Gandalf ran his hand along, and stopped in front of a smooth area of the wall.

"Ah, now, let me see..." he said, brushing away some dirt. "Ithildin. It mirrors only starlight. And moonlight."

As if they had heard the wizard speak, the clouds moved aside, revealing a glowing, ornate patterned door.

"It reads: 'The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter," Gandalf translated.

"Funny how he's reading the Elvish when you're the elf," Maggie stage-whispered to Legolas, who chuckled in response, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked.

"Oh, it's quite simple," Gandalf began to explain. "If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors will open."

He held his staff against the star at the centre of the door, and began to speak.

"Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen!" he said, and glared at the door when nothing happened. "Fennas Nogothrim, lasto beth lammen!"

"Nothing's happening," Pippin said.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Maggie smirked.

"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of elves, men and orcs," Gandalf said, sighing as he pushed futilely against the doors.

"What're you going to do then?" Pippin asked, cheekily.

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took!" Gandalf said irritably. "And if that does not shatter them and I'm allowed a little peace from foolish questions I will try to find the opening words. Hmm. Ando Eldarinwa, a lasta quettanya, Fenda Casarinwa..."

As Gandalf tried various passwords, Aragorn was removing the bridle off of Bill the pony.

"The mines are no place for a pony," Aragorn said. "Even one so brave as Bill."

"Buh-bye, Bill," Sam said, sadly, patting the pony on the head.

"Go on," Aragorn urged gently. "Go on. Don't worry, Sam. He knows the way home."

"Hey, Legolas?" Maggie said, furrowing her brow.

"Hmm?" the elf responded, turning to her.

"What's the Elvish word for friend?"

"Mellon!" Legolas responded. There was a sudden loud crackling, followed by a creaking. Gandalf looked at Maggie with suspicion, and she gave him a wide, innocent grin. As he walked past her, he gave her a thwack on the calf with his staff. She cackled with laughter, and followed him.

"Come on, everyone. Let's get inside," she said. "There's something weird about the water."

"I agree," said Aragorn, as the pond began to ripple without any wind.

"Soon, Master Elf," Gimli said. "You will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves. Roaring fires! Malt beer! Red meat off the bone!"

Gandalf placed a crystal in the end of his staff, and breathed on it to light it. Maggie fished her penlight out of her bag and clicked it on, sending forward a beam of light.

"This, my friend," Gimli bragged. "Is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a mine. A mine!"

"This is no mine," Boromir said, looking around as Maggie's beam of light swept over the contents of the room. "This is a tomb."

"No!" Gimli shouted, running over to a corpse. Maggie focused her light on it. "No!"

"Goblins!" Legolas said, yanking an arrow out of a skeleton and focusing on the tip.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir said. "We should never have come here."

Gandalf, Aragorn and Boromir drew their swords. Legolas nocked an arrow into his bowstring. Maggie pulled her handgun from the holster and cocked it.

"Get out of here!" Boromir yelled. "Get out!"

Frodo was suddenly grabbed by a tentacle, reaching from the water beyond the door.

"Motherfu-" Maggie said, and raised her gun with two hands, taking aim. "Damnit, I can't get a safe shot without hurting Frodo."

"Frodo!" Merry and Pippin yelled, running to the mouth of the cave.

"Strider!" Sam called desperately, hacking at the tentacle with his sword, freeing Frodo. "Get off him!" Merry and Pippin hauled Frodo up by his arms, pulling him to safety.

Legolas fired an arrow at the creature as it stretched out another tentacle to grab at Frodo. Maggie took careful aim, and fired her weapon. The gunshot resounded and echoed in the cave, causing everyone to cringe. She fired another two bullets, a solid bullseye on the creature's face. Legolas fired a couple of arrows for good measure, and it slipped under the waves with a squeal, but not before giving a hard smack to the cliff above the doorway with a heavy tentacle.

"Into the mines!" Gandalf yelled. The hobbits dove under the falling rocks, as the others were still already inside. The dust settled, smaller rocks rolling down towards their feet. Maggie coughed, and flicked her flashlight on.

"Anyone hurt?" she asked, flitting it around to meet everyone's face. Silently, they shook their heads.

"We now have but one choice," Gandalf said, banging his staff on the ground and lighting it brightly. "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard, there are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world. Quietly now. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

He began to lead them down the steps. Maggie flicked off her flashlight, conserving the battery for when it was truly needed, and tucked it back in her pocket.

They walked for some time, passing through tall caverns and over bridges. Gandalf slowed at one point, holding his light close to the wall. Platinum-silver streaks were shot through the rock.

"The wealth of Moria is not in gold or jewels, but mithril," he said. "Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him."

"Oh," Gimli exclaimed. "That was a kingly gift!"

"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "I never told him, but it's worth was greater than the value of the Shire!"

Pippin slipped as they climbed some steep steps, falling onto his face.

"Pippin," Merry scolded. Maggie chuckled.

"He's not clumsy," she said. "It's just the floor hates him, the stairs are bullies, and the wall gets in the way."

Merry and Pippin both laughed, and Pippin coloured. She winked at him.

"I was kind of a klutz as a teenager," she said. "It takes a lot of skill to trip over a flat surface." She dusted him off, and they continued on.

They reached the crossroads with three pathways. Gandalf looked around, trying to determine the path.

"I've no memory of this place," he said gravely.

"We might as well take a rest here," Maggie said. Gandalf sat down and lit his pipe, looking thoughtful.

"Are we lost?" asked Pippin quietly.

"No," replied Merry.

"I think we are," Pippin retorted.

"Shh!" Sam chided. "Gandalf's thinking!"

"Merry," Pippin whispered.

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

There was a scrabbling noise behind them. Frodo looked back, and rushed over to Gandalf.

"There's something down there!" he said, worriedly.

"It's Gollum," Gandalf replied simply.

"Gollum!" Frodo exclaimed.

"He's been following us for three days," Gandalf replied.

"He escaped the dungeons of Barad-Dûr!"

"Escaped," Gandalf turned to face the hobbit. "Or was set loose, and now the Ring has drawn him here. He won't ever be rid of his need for it. He hates and loves the Ring, as he hates and loves himself. Smeagol's life is a sad story," he shook his head at Frodo's incredulous look. "Yes, Smeagol he was once called, before the Ring found him. Before it drove him mad."

"It's a pity Bilbo didnt kill him when he had the chance," Frodo spat.

"Pity? It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death, and many that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death and judgement. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before this is over. The pity of Bilbo, may rule the fate of many."

"I wish the Ring had never come to me," Frodo said mournfully. "I wish none of this had happened."

"So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, in which case you also were meant to have it, and that is an encouraging thought," Gandalf reassured him. He started suddenly, and pointed with his pipe. "Oh! Its that way!"

"He's remembered!" Merry said happily.

"No," Gandalf corrected. "But the air doesnt smell so foul down here. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

Maggie snickered, thinking of the Froot Loops commercial.

They gathered up their things, and followed Gandalf down the path, and they soon entered a great chamber, with impossibly high ceilings and ornately carved pillars.

"Let me risk a little more light," Gandalf said, holding up his staff. "Behold the great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf."

Maggie let out a wolf whistle.

"There's an eye-opener," Sam said. "And no mistake!"

"This level of craftsmanship is absolutely astounding," Maggie said, running her fingers over one of the carvings. "On the level of the Seven Wonders of the World back home."

"Seven wonders?" Gimli asked.

"Great feats of engineering. Most of which are long gone due to the passage of millenia, but there are ancient texts that write of them. Great pyramids to house the tombs of kings, which still stand - despite being the oldest wonder, hanging gardens, a statue called the Colossus that straddled a harbour... These mines would make the list, without a doubt."

"Dwarves are reknowned for their stonework," Gandalf said. "And this is one of their greatest accomplishments."

They made their way forward, into the underground city. Maggie looked around with wonder. As they walked through mazelike corridors, a room opened to the left.

"Oh!" Gimli took off with a shout, running into the room, which had skeletal remains littered around the floor.

"Gimli!" Gandalf called after him, as they followed the dwarf into the room. He knelt in front of the stone tomb in the middle of the chamber.

"No," the dwarf said, bowing his head. "No!"

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria," Gandalf read, removing his hat. "He is dead then. It is as I feared."

Gimli's shoulders began to shake with sobs. Maggie knelt in front of him, and offered him a handkerchief from her pack. He blew his nose loudly as she patted his shoulder in sympathy.

"We must move on," Legolas said quietly. "We cannot linger."

Gandalf handed his hat and staff to Pippin, and pried a dust-covered tome from the hands of a dwarven skeleton.

"They have taken the Bridge and the second hall," Gandalf trailed a finger along the runes. "We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums. Drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming..."

There was a crash from behind them, as Pippin knocked a skull down a very deep well. Maggie drew in a sharp breath, having forgotten about this particular incident. The rest of the body fell, echoing in the silent chamber. Everyone stood taut with anxiety, and then breathed a sigh of relief. Except Maggie, who caught Boromir's eye. Gandalf shut the book with a thud and a cloud of dust.

"We will be attacked soon," she said.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf snatched his effects from the hobbit, who looked contrite and embarassed. "Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity!"

Maggie looked at him with sympathy, as Gandalf turned back. Pippin looked at her gratefully.

"Wait," Aragorn said. "Attacked?"

As he spoke, loud drums sounded from far away, and rapidly became louder.

"Frodo!" Sam exclaimed, pointing at his sword.

"Orcs!" Legolas said.

Two arrows flew past Boromir's head as he ran to the door to close it.

"Get back!" Aragorn instructed the hobbits. "And stay close to Gandalf."

"They have a cave troll," Boromir said with dread, and Aragorn ran forward to help him barr the door shut. Maggie clambered up to a higher vantage point, lying down on her stomach and putting the butt of her rifle against her shoulder, her finger on the trigger, closing her right eye to sight properly.

"Agh!" Gimli shouted, as he hopped up on top of Balin's tomb. "Let them come! There's one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

The doors did not hold long, and Maggie couldn't get a good shot as they hacked holes in the wood. Aragorn and Legolas fired arrows through, felling a few before the troll thundered through the door.

"Pull!" Aragorn yelled, grabbing onto the chains around the troll's neck. They managed to still it, but not before it flung Boromir against a wall, stunning him.

Maggie took aim, and her marksmanship didn't fail her. The crack of the rifle made many of the orcs heads snap up, and the bullet pierced the troll's skull, exiting from the back of his head, blowing his skull open, and embedding itself in the stone wall behind.

The troll dropped to his knees, falling forward in a pool of sticky black blood. Maggie picked off a couple of the orcs, as the hobbits even joined the fray.

"Think I'm getting the hang of this," Sam said, giving an orc a good thwack.

As they cleared the room of orcs, there were screeches in the distance.

"To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm," Gandalf instructed. The fellowship ran out of the room, Maggie shouldering her rifle and grabbing her handgun instead. They were swarmed by orcs as they ran down the corridor, and were suddenly surrounded. They all drew their weapons, and the loud bang made by Maggie's gun startled the orcs, though not as much as a roar which sounded from a doorway, followed by a red glow. The orcs screeched, and scattered, climbing the pillars like a bunch of monkeys.

"What new devilry is this?" Boromir asked.

"A Balrog, a demon of the ancient world," Gandalf replied, drawing in a breath to steady himself. "This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"

Everyone took off at a panicked run, Boromir in the lead. Suddenly, he stopped, windmilling his arms as he stopped in front of a deep chasm. Legolas snagged him by the tunic, and pulled him back to safety. Gandalf entered the room last, glancing over his shoulder.

"Gandalf!" Aragorn yelled.

"Lead them on, Aragorn," the wizard responded. "The Bridge is near!"

The very narrow bridge appeared before them. Maggie sucked in a breath, because heights were definitely not her strong suit. They could feel the heat from behind them, and another roar sounded.

"Do as I say!" Gandalf shouted. "Swords are of no more use here."

They ran down the winding steps, and stopped at a gap. Legolas jumped across nimbly. Maggie eyed the gap, knowing she could probably make the jump, but gulped at the depth of the chasm.

"Gandalf," Legolas beckoned. Gandalf leapt across the gap, and Legolas fired an arrow at an orc who was raining arrows down on them.

"Merry!" Boromir shouted. "Pippin!" He grabbed a hobbit under each arm and jumped across.

"Sam," said Aragorn, reaching for the hobbit, and boosting him across the gap, where Boromir caught him. He went for Gimli, but the dwarf held up a hand.

"Nobody tosses a dwarf!" he exclaimed, and took a good leap across, landing just on the edge and flailing backwards. Legolas reached out to grab him and got a handful of beard. "Not the beard!" The elf grabbed him and pulled him to safety.

"Maggie, you next," Boromir said, as Aragorn was distracted fired arrows behind at the orcs. She took a deep breath, stepped back a few paces, and took a running leap, landing safely in Boromir's arms.

"Oh thank goodness," she murmured, letting out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

"Afraid of heights?" Boromir asked her, raising an eyebrow.

"Heights? No," she shook her head. "It's more the falling and the giant splat at the bottom."

He chuckled despite the dangerous situation. There was a crack, and the bridge began to split.

"Steady!" Aragorn said, as the gap widened, too far to jump. "Hold on!" He grabbed onto Frodo's coat. "Lean forward."

The chunk of bridge fell forward, and Legolas grabbed the two to lead them to safety. They ran into the adjoining room.

"Over the Bridge!" Gandalf shouted, as the flames grew higher and hotter. They passed Gandalf, who turned back toward the threat, wielding his sword in one hand and his staff in the other. The Balrog appeared, black as night and crackling with fire and embers, a formidable and terrifying sight.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf shouted.

"Gandalf!" Frodo called out in fear.

"I am the Servant of the Secret Fire," Gandalf spoke. "Wielder of the Flame of Anor!" The Balrog drew itself to full height, spreading his wings. "The dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udûn!" His staff glowed white, and the Balrog cracked his whip backwards, and flicked it at the wizard, who protected himself with his staff. The demon roared in fury. "Go back to the shadow! You shall not pass!" Gandalf yelled, raising his staff above his head and bringing it down to the bridge with a crash, which began to collapse, the Balrog falling into the chasm. As Gandalf turned to approach the others, the Balrog's whip curled around his ankle, and pulled him to the edge, where he clambered for a grip.

"No!" Boromir cried.

"Gandalf!" Frodo shrieked.

"Fly, you fools!" Gandalf instructed, and, as if intentionally, let go.

"No!" Frodo cried out, and Boromir grabbed him to keep him from rushing to the edge.

"Aragorn!" Boromir yelled, hoisting the hobbit and beginning to run towards the exit. Everyone followed, and the hobbits collapsed on the rocks outside, squinting against the brightness of the afternoon sun. Tears streaked their dusty faces, and Maggie clung to Boromir's arm.

"Legolas! Get them up!" Aragorn ordered.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake," Boromir said angrily.

"By nightfall this hills will be swarming with orcs!" Aragorn gestured wildly. "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, Maggie! Get them up!" He reached for Sam, and lifted him. "On your feet, Sam. Frodo?"

Frodo was already standing several feet away, tears streaming down his face. He turned to face Aragorn, and then bowed his head.

Aragorn led them onward, toward the thick woods.

...

A/N: Last chapter's song was, unsurprisingly, The Two Trees (Ce He Mise Le Ulaingt?) by Loreena McKennitt.


	8. Only half past the point of no return

A/N: The Fellowship spends about a month in Lothlorien. Since this is a good place to have a little fun, we'll tarry here for the next couple of chapters.

More smut at the end of the chapter. You are warned.

...

Chapter Eight - It's only half past the point of no return

...

They approached the woods, casting worried glimpses over their shoulders as they went. Maggie stuck close to the hobbits, giving them reassuring looks and gently touching their shoulders when the pain of losing Gandalf overwhelmed them.

Maggie looked around in wonder at the tall trees, the sunlight filtering through the canopy and dancing across their faces. It reminded her of the forests she'd visited in British Columbia, which had felt mystical and ancient - Lothlorien was the same feeling, amplified.

"Stay close, young hobbits," Gimli said, placing his hand on Frodo's arm. "They say there's a great sorceress who lives in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell, and are never seen again."

Frodo looked around worriedly.

"Mr. Frodo?" said Sam, casting a concerned look at his friend.

"Well! Here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily!" Gimli boasted. "I have the eyes of a hawk, and ears of a fox!"

Suddenly, they were surrounded by elves who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. An arrow was pointed directly at Gimli's nose.

"Oh!" he said. Aragorn held his hand up, and Maggie raised hers in surrender as well.

"The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark," said the golden-haired leader of the band of elves.

"Aragorn!" Gimli said. "These woods are perilous. We should go back."

"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood," Haldir replied. "You cannot go back. Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion."

"Govannas vîn gwennen le," Legolas responded. "Haldir o Lórien."

"A, Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen," Haldir turned to Aragorn next.

"Haldir," he nodded in response. Maggie gave Haldir a tentative smile. He looked her over with curiosity, and opened his mouth to speak, before being cut off.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves," Gimli scoffed. "Speak words we can also understand!"

"We have not had dealings with the dwarves, since the dark days," Haldir said solemnly.

"And do you know what this Dwarf says to that?" Gimli said angrily. "Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!"

"That," Aragorn said, giving Gimli a whack on the shoulder. "Was not so courteous!"

"You bring great evil with you," Haldir said, turning to Frodo. "You can go no further."

"Boe ammen veriad lîn," Aragorn said rapidly. "Andelu i ven!"

The two conversed rapidly in Elvish, Aragorn in a pleading tone of voice.

"Gandalf's death was not in vain. Nor would he have you give up hope," Boromir said to Frodo, who looked even more worried than before as he watched the elf and Aragorn talk. "You carry a heavy burden Frodo. Don't carry the weight of the dead."

The Elvish conversation halted, and Haldir turned to look at the group.

"You have a lady with you?" Haldir asked, raising an eyebrow. "And she is dressed very strangely." Maggie looked down at her garb of dirty camo pants, black tank top, dog tags and zip-up hoodie, completed with black combat boots.

"You might say that," Aragorn chuckled. "But she fights as well as any man."

"It's kind of a long story," Maggie shrugged. "I'm not exactly your average woman."

"Elves are immortal," Haldir replied. "Plenty of time for stories. I would be curious to hear about you. Come, you will follow me. She is waiting."

...

Haldir led them over a ridge, and they looked out over a golden city amongst the trees. As the sun set, he led them up a winding staircase, and into the chamber where the Lord and Lady of the Wood awaited them.

"The Enemy knows you have entered here," Celeborn spoke, looking over the group. "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine there are here, yet ten there were, set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar."

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land," Galadriel said, looking into Aragorn's eyes. "He has fallen into shadow." Aragorn nodded in response.

"He was taken by both Shadow and Flame: a Balrog of Morgoth," Legolas said, and Celeborn looked at him in surprise. "For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

Gimli bowed his head sadly.

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," Galadriel reassured. "We do not yet know his whole purpose. Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Glóin." Gimli looked into her eyes in astonishment. "For the world has grown full of peril. And in all lands, love is now mingled with grief."

She turned next to Boromir, who, upon having his mind invaded by Galadriel, began to weep. Maggie put a comforting arm around his shoulders, and looked at the elf in disapproval.

"You do not belong here," Galadriel said. "You are not of this world."

"No, I'm not," Maggie replied. "But as to whether I belong here, all I can say is, I am here, and there isn't much anyone can do about it now."

"And you know things others do not," Galadriel continued. She stared hard into Maggie's hardened eyes. "Gandalf will return."

The rest of the Fellowship gasped, and whirled to face her.

"You did not tell us?" Aragorn said angrily. "You know he's not dead?"

"Oh, he's actually dead," Maggie said. "But I'd like to see that stop a wizard. He will come back, but he will not be quite the same. I wasn't sure how to approach telling you," she glared at Galadriel. "And I wanted to wait until we had a moment's rest and some privacy before I eased everyone's minds."

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife," Galadriel said. "Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all," she turned to Sam and Frodo. "Yet hope remains while the company is true."

The elf smiled at Sam, who looked her directly in the eyes. Boromir sniffled, and looked embarassed at his reaction.

"Shh," Maggie said gently, rubbing his shoulder. Galadriel raised an eyebrow at her, and Maggie looked back defiantly, knowing that the elf already knew about their status as lovers. To her surprise, Galadriel smiled slightly at her, a knowing look in her eyes. A corner of Maggie's mouth quirked in response.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled," Galadriel said. "Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace."

"Thank you," Maggie replied.

"Haldir will see to any other needs you may have," Celeborn added.

"You don't even want to know what I would do for a soak in a hot bath," Maggie said, as Haldir led them back down the stairs. Haldir chuckled.

"I imagine travelling through Moria was not the tidiest of experiences," he replied.

"Understatement of the year," she said, trying to wipe grime from her face and only succeeding in smearing it into her eye. "I bet I smell like an orc's armpit."

"I will fetch some female attendants to assist you," Haldir promised. "They can also clean your clothing."

"Thank you," she said, hopping down a few stairs at a time.

"What are those strange things you carry?" Haldir asked, fingering the rifle over her shoulder.

"Well, you know how I said it was a long story?" Maggie smiled, and Haldir nodded. "I'm from a completely different world. Maybe a different universe. I don't know how I ended up here, but these are weapons. Guns, they're called. Almost like a crossbow, but far more effective and deadly."

"Louder, too," Legolas said, from behind her. Maggie imitated a gunshot noise.

"Maybe if you're nice to me I'll let you try it," she grinned at Haldir. "It's pretty fun."

"I am arranging a bath for you," he said.

"Add a nice warm bed to that," she bargained. "And you're on."

...

Maggie sat in a stone bathing chamber on a low stool, lathering herself with a bar of lightly-scented soap. Two female elves, who murmured amongst themselves in Elvish, poured ewers of water over her, rinsing away the grime. One of the elves poured a concoction onto her hair, and massaged it into her scalp, lathering it and making Maggie moan in pleasure. The other elf tilted Maggie's head back, and rinsed her hair.

"What are your names?" Maggie asked. The elves looked at her, curiously. Maggie shook her head, realizing they didn't understand her. She pointed to herself. "Maggie," then pointed to the first elf.

"Baineth," she said. She murmured something to the second elf.

"Inwel," said the second elf. Maggie nodded and smiled at them.

"Mellon?" she said. "Sorry, it's the only Elvish word I know."

The two elves tittered in response. Maggie rose and went over to her pack, and took her razor out. The elves watched curiously as she lathered her legs and shaved off the stubble.

"We humans are kinda hairy," Maggie said. "But it feels cleaner when you take the hair off. I know you can't understand me anyway. Also I don't think elves grow hair below their eyebrows. Legolas said something about not having beards."

The elves looked at her curiously, then indicated that she should enter the large sunken tub in the middle of the room. Maggie sunk into the tub with a groan, leaning her head back on the side as the two elves rinsed the soap down the drain in the floor and brought out bath sheets.

"Thank you," she said, and though the elves didn't know what she was saying, they seemed to understand. Inwel left the room, and returned with a pretty green gown, hanging it on a hook and smiling as she gathered the pile of Maggie's dirty laundry.

"You girls are saints, I swear," Maggie said. "I wish I knew enough Elvish to tell you that. I'll have to haul Legolas over to talk to you."

Baineth looked at her curiously at the sound of Legolas name.

"Legolas?" she asked tentatively, and raised her eyebrow at Inwel. Inwel nodded to her, and Baineth left the room.

"Huh," Maggie said. "Well, if they've gone to get him, he's going to get quite a show."

About half an hour later, there was a knock on the door. Inwel opened it, and Legolas entered, dressed in a silvery tunic and looking ethereal. He immediately turned his back. Inwel left the room.

"You sent for me?" he asked.

"Uh, not really," Maggie said. "Sorry. I was kind of babbling and I mentioned your name. I think they took it that I wanted you to come here. The language barrier is a little frustrating."

"Well, then," Legolas chuckled. "I shall leave you to your bath."

"Wait," Maggie said. "Maybe you can help me. I learned their names - but I wanted to thank them for what they're doing, and I don't know how to do that. They're saints, really. There's nothing that makes a woman feel more like a woman than cleaning off several days worth of filth. Except maybe for a push-up bra and high heels."

Legolas turned to raise an eyebrow, and snapped his head back. Maggie giggled.

"Don't worry," she said. "I was in the army, where I came from. You get pretty used to being in various stages of undress in front of everyone. Men, women, doesn't matter. It's just a body. You aren't preserving my modesty. And you'll probably see me in my birthday suit before the end of this quest anyway."

"I have never seen a human woman nude," Legolas said. "So let us say we're preserving my innocence."

"I'm not covered in scales," Maggie snickered, pulling herself up out of the tub and wrapping herself in a sheet. "There we go. No more naked human to freak out the Elf Prince."

"I will send Inwel and Baineth back to assist you. And I will be sure to pass on your thanks," Legolas chuckled. "They will lead you down to where the rest of us are. As promised, Haldir prepared a tent especially for you - partially on the Lady's command. She thinks you will enjoy some time away from the males of the Fellowship."

"That dwarf does snore something terrible," Maggie said cheekily. Legolas snorted, and covered his mouth with his hand.

"I've never seen an elf do something that undignified before!" Maggie crowed. "Legolas snorts!"

He turned red, and glared at her.

"Let me guess, if I tell anyone, you'll have to kill me?" she gave him a wide grin. He laughed, despite himself.

"Well, we do have an image to maintain."

"Yeah, the whole 'I'm mysterious and quiet and immortal, I would not dare do anything remotely undignified.' Like a unicorn. Probably fart rainbows." Legolas laughed.

"Unicorn?"

"Mythical creature. Looks like a white horse, but has a horn growing out of it's head," Maggie explained, sitting down on the stool and drying her hair, which stuck up in many different directions. "Legend has it that only virgin women can catch one. I wouldn't be surprised to see one wandering around in Lothlorien, really."

"Your human myths are fascinating," Legolas said, leaning against the wall. "And I enjoyed your songs as well."

"Plenty more where that came from," she said. "Now, head back down. I'll wrestle myself into this dress and meet you down there."

"I've only seen you in a dress the once," Legolas said.

"I'm not really a dress girl," she said. "I feel like a colt in a circus tent. All gangly. Clumsier than Pippin."

Legolas chuckled. "You looked lovely. Now, I'll leave you be."

"Thanks, Legolas," she said. He turned to leave. Maggie let out a mocking snort, and he laughed as he walked out of the room.

...

Maggie lifted the edge of the skirt of the flowing dress, and stepped down from the bottom stair. The fellowship were lounging around a clearing, which had been arranged as a suitable camp. There were lightweight tents, with drapes pulled aside, revealing sleeping spaces loaded with comfortable cushions. Legolas smiled at her as she walked up.

"I told you," he murmured, patting her on the shoulder. She elbowed him gently.

"Now, where is this tent?" she said.

"Fit for a queen, really," Legolas answered, and pointed to a tent that was set well further back from the others. The drape was pulled aside, revealing a large, comfortable bed in the centre. Maggie clapped her hands in delight.

"Where is everyone else sleeping?" she asked.

"Well, I shall be up in the tree buildings with the other elves. One of the tents is for Frodo and Sam, the other for Merry and Pippin, and Boromir and Aragorn are sharing as well. Gimli has his own," he added, smiling. "Snoring, you know."

Maggie chuckled. "We'll all get some solid sleep here. I know we need it."

"Come, now, have something to eat. The Lady sent us a real feast, though the hobbits have probably tucked away most of it."

Maggie followed him back to the clearing. The fellowship were seated around a low table, which was laden with food and drink. The hobbits each had a plate piled high with a little of everything, and Aragorn was lounging back against a cushion with a goblet of Elven wine. Maggie took a silver plate and spooned a few things onto it, the breast from some kind of bird, several kinds of vegetables, and she eyed the fruit excitedly. She sat back to eat.

"So," she turned to Aragorn. "How long are we planning to stay here?"

"The Lady thinks we should stay about one month," he responded. "To rest and recover, and to give her some time to gather some information for us." Maggie nodded, biting into the poultry with relish. It reminded her of duck, but a little less rich.

"Hey, Maggie?" Pippin asked her around a mouthful of potato.

"Hmm?"

"Can you tell us a story?"

"Of course I can," she said, and furrowed her brow. "What kind of story do you want to hear? A fairy tale? I know a few of those."

"Ooh," Merry piped up. "Do you know any with dragons in them?"

"Actually, yes," Maggie replied. "The story of Sleeping Beauty has a dragon in it."

Maggie launched into the tale.

"Once upon a time," she said. "Because all good tales begin once upon a time, there lived a king and his fair queen..."

The hobbits watched her with interest as she got into the telling of the story, and even added a song in the mix as the Prince and Princess danced together in the woods. Boromir smiled at her, leaning back.

When she came to the climax of the tale, when the Prince fights Maleficent as the dragon, Maggie stood up and drew Boromir's sword, punctuating her tale with improvised choreography. They were enthralled.

She described how, upon defeating the dragon, the Prince climbed into the tower where the Princess lay sleeping, and awoke her with a kiss.

"And they lived happily ever after," she ended, with a flourish. The hobbits applauded, and Aragorn clapped her on the back.

"I have a feeling you'll be the entertainment for the rest of the journey," Gimli said.

"Oh yes!" Pippin said. "She's as good a storyteller as Bilbo!"

"That's high praise," Sam added.

"Well, I have plenty of stories, real or no. Some with songs, some without, so I can tell a great many."

"We should get some rest," Boromir said, stretching his arms up, his shoulders popping.

"Will you sing another song?" Merry asked. "It doesn't have to be a lullaby."

"I could," she said. "Hmm. I have one. It might bring some comfort to those of us thinking about our fallen friend. He is not gone forever, but this might help."

She started quietly singing, sitting on a rock.

"Let your arms enfold us

Through the dark of night

Will your angels hold us?

'Til we see the light

Hush, lay down your troubled mind

The day has vanished and left us behind

And the wind, whispering soft lullabies

Will soothe, so close your weary eyes

Let your arms enfold us

Through the dark of night

Will your angels hold us?

'Til we see the light

Sleep, angels will watch over you

And soon, beautiful dreams will come true

Can you feel - spirits embracing us all?

So dream, while secrets of darkness unfold

Let your arms enfold us

Through the dark of night

Will your angels hold us?

'Til we see the light..."

She looked up to find everyone staring at her, eyes shining, smiling at her sadly.

"That brings me comfort," Frodo said. "Thank you."

"I'm glad. We all have our parts to play in this life, and we will accomplish what we are meant to. I swear it. And now? Bedtime."

...

Maggie crept from her bed about an hour after everyone else went to sleep, and gently snuck up to the tent Boromir shared with Aragorn. She pulled the drape aside, and peeked in. Both were sleeping, Aragorn on his side, facing away. She slipped under the fabric, and gently shook Boromir's shoulder. He awoke, and looked at her with concern. She put a finger to her lips. He slid out of his bed, and followed her back to her tent.

"Is something wrong?" he whispered, as they neared her little sanctuary.

"Not unless missing you counts as 'something wrong'," she replied, curling her arms around his neck to kiss him gently.

"I do not dare risk doing anything in these woods," he said, pulling back. "The Lady of the Wood seems to know everything." Maggie snickered.

"She already knows, Boromir," she said. "And why do you think she gave me a private tent?"

Comprehension dawned on his face at the same time as embarrassment.

"Has she seen what we've... well, what we've done before?"

"I don't know," Maggie said. "But she's a married elf who has been around for a couple of millenia. I'm pretty sure if there's anything sexual to be done, they've done it." She pulled him inside the tent, and released the drapes. She'd been given a simple white shift to sleep in, and she was a bit cold - goosebumps were raising on her arms. Boromir ran his hands over her biceps to warm her.

"We are not married," Boromir reminded her.

"No, we're not," she replied. "Does that bother you?"

"It is customary in my culture to get married before consummating a relationship," he admitted. "So it does make me uneasy."

"If you want to wait before we go, you know, all the way, I'm okay with that," she said. "But I'm ready, whenever you are."

"I worry about you becoming with child," he said. "That would make it impossible for you to continue on this quest."

"It would," she said. "But we don't need to worry about that. There's a medicine I take that prevents me from falling pregnant. I had a dose before I came here, it lasts three months, and I have another dose in my medical kit. So we're safe."

"Your world has some amazing inventions," he said. "How reliable is it?"

"Pretty reliable. It stops me from having... well, my courses, I guess you'd call it. We call them periods," she shrugged. "Which will honestly come in handy on the road."

"I imagine dealing with bleeding would be uncomfortable while travelling," he said. "I suppose I understand more now how women in your world can do the same work as men, if they do not have to worry about those womanly things."

"They called it the sexual revolution," she said, sitting on the bed. "As soon as a way was invented to prevent pregnancy, sex stopped having as many terrifying consequences for a young woman. So we started experimenting."

"That explains what you told me before," he coloured. She lounged back on the bed, tugging the long gown up so it rested on her thighs. He looked down at her creamy skin, and placed his hand on her leg, leaning on one elbow close to her.

"So," she said, shyly. "Wanna?"

He coloured, but nodded. "You will have to guide me to show me what you like." She smiled at him.

"I'd like a kiss, to start with."

He leaned in close to her, brushing her hair from her forehead. It was getting a bit longer, and starting to get in her eyes. He caught her chin in his fingers, and smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip, before lowering his head and kissing her gently.

His beard scratched against her face, and his kiss became more insistent. She opened her mouth to him, and he slipped his tongue between her lips to tangle with hers. She inhaled sharply through her nose as she pressed her body against his, her left hand against his chest.

He was wearing a simple white shirt with loose ties at the collar, which fell open to reveal his chest, and a pair of loose black pants. He was barefoot, and he when he pulled back, he looked at her through a curtain of hair, which she tucked behind his ear.

"I think," she said, punctuating with another searing kiss. "That you are wearing entirely too much clothing." She tugged the shirt free of the waist of his pants, and broke the kiss to pull it over his head. She tossed it over her shoulder, and placed both hands on his chest.

"Mmm," she said. "You are gorgeous." She ran her hands over his abdominal muscles, and up to his sternum, where a pale, light smattering of down-like hair covered him up to his collarbone. She petted him gently, and then playfully tweaked a nipple.

She maneuvered herself on top of him, straddling his hips. She leaned down and kissed the spot where his neck met his shoulder, grazing with her teeth. It left a pale love bite, and she kissed it in satisfaction. His hands came up around her waist, caressing her through the thin fabric of the shift. She kissed down his chest, sliding down his legs to lie atop him, swirling her tongue around a nipple, and nibbled on his hipbone when she reached there. She could feel his erection pressed hotly against her chest, and she nudged it gently with the back of her hand. He hissed in pleasure, and tugged on her shift. She pulled it over her head, and straddled him again, completely naked for him.

He drank in the sight of her. Her skin was creamy and pale, except on her cheekbones and shoulders where the sun had brought the freckles to prominence. Her blue-grey eyes had darkened to a stormy sea-colour, her pupils dilated. Her lips were kiss-swollen, and her hair was tousled. She looked wanton and completely desirable.

His gaze travelled downward. She had slender arms, and prominent collarbones. Her breasts were small, barely more than a handful, which he tested with one hand, bringing it up to cup the flesh and flick his thumb over her nipple, which puckered under his touch. Her waist was fairly thin, and her hips slender, the bones curving gently. She had a rounded bottom, which he slipped his hands around to grip, grinding her into him.

"You are exquisite," he said. "So beautiful."

"Oh," she said, as he ground himself into her centre. "You have no idea how much I want you."

"I think I have some idea," he chuckled. "You can feel what you're doing to me."

"Mmm," she replied, and bent down to kiss him hotly. When she released him, she went to slide down his body to remove his pants, but he stopped her, and flipped her onto her back.

"I want to explore you," he said. "Worship you. You deserve it."

He kissed her collarbone, and cupped a breast. He lowered his mouth to it, and took the hardened nipple in his mouth. An electric jolt travelled down his spine as he sucked on it, flicking his tongue over it, and she moaned softly, burying her hands in his hair and holding her to him. He kneaded her other breast with his other hand, and then moved his mouth there as well. He pulled back to admire his handiwork, the rosy buds puckering and pleading for more touch. He ran his hands over her breasts again, before bringing one hand down to dip between her thighs.

He hadn't been able to see what he was doing when he had done this before, so he parted her knees and took a good look at her. Short, reddish curls covered her mound, and he could see the bud that had given her so much pleasure before, as well as her entrance, which was already slick from his ministrations.

He dipped a finger between her folds, spreading the wetness up over her clit, enjoying the murmured reaction as he drew his fingers over it.

"I think you said something about mouths," he said. She looked up at him in surprise. "Can I kiss you here?"

"Oh god," she said. "Yes!"

He lowered his head between her legs, and parted her folds with his fingers. He gave her bud a tentative lick, which sent her hips raising up off of the bed.

"Oh!" she breathed. "Do that again. Gently, you have to work up a little bit."

He flattened his tongue and began to lap at her, rubbing her with his fingers at the same time.

"Inside," she gulped, as he began to gently suck. "Your fingers."

He slipped two fingers inside of her, curling them toward himself as he had the last time. She moaned, trying to stifle the sound, and buried her hands in his hair again, raking her fingernails over his scalp in pleasure. He varied between lapping and sucking, slipping his fingers in and out of her entrance, until finally she grasped his shoulders.

"Need you," she said, desire written all over her face. "I need you inside me."

He didn't need to be told twice. He stripped off his bottoms, and knelt between her legs. She reached down to fondle him, and he threw his head back in pleasure. She used the moisture already collecting at the tip to slick along his length, pumping her hand up and down.

"Unh," he said. "You have to stop, if you want me to last for you." He took her hand in his, and bent to kiss her again. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"More than anything. Please."

He took his member in his hand, and pressed against her entrance. She was so hot and wet he slid in easily, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural moan. She gasped at the sudden feeling of being filled, and wrapped her legs around him, gripping his butt with her hands and urging him to move.

He slid in and out of her, and they hit a rhythm that suited them both. Maggie was gasping into his ear, and he buried his head in her neck, moaning against her skin as the delicious friction built. She shifted position, and suddenly as he pressed into her, he was rubbing against her clit at the same time. She ground into him, and he panted as he drove into her faster and harder. Her moans became louder as her orgasm built, and she could feel herself perched on the edge of the cliff.

"I'm going to come," she gasped into his ear. "Oh god. Come with me. Come for me. Please."

A fierce white light exploded behind her eyes, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She felt him harden inside her even more, and the sound of his moans sent her careening into the chasm.

He felt her walls spasm around him, which was more than enough to drive him over the edge. He groaned loudly as he spilled inside her, twitching with each spurt. He collapsed forward, and she cradled his head against her breast. Eventually, he slipped out, and moved beside her, taking her in his arms. She nestled under his arm, her head on his shoulder, breathing in the masculine, heady scent of sweat and sex and something that was uniquely him.

"That," she said, once she had caught her breath. "Was amazing."

"I have never, ever felt anything like that," he said.

"Stay with me," she whispered. "Please."

"I wouldn't leave you right now for the world," he whispered, pulling the covers over them. They were quietly enjoying each other's company, Maggie feeling his heartbeat return to normal under her hand.

"Boromir?" she said, tentatively.

"Hmm?" he replied sleepily.

"I think I'm falling for you," she said.

He lifted his head, and smiled at her.

"Only 'think'?" he teased.

"Hey, these words freak out a lot of men, I don't want to scare you off."

"You won't."

"Why did Galadriel upset you so?" she asked gently, brushing his hair from his face.

"She looked into my mind. She accused me of wanting to take the Ring for myself. She showed me turning into... into a monster," he said. "And I wept like... like a child!"

"You aren't a monster," Maggie said. "The Ring affects us all. I've felt it's pull. It is hard to resist, that is it's danger. Don't worry." She curled closer to him. "I'll take care of you. And crying is a sign of strength and of love, not of weakness."

He kissed her gently but passionately, and they both drifted into sleep, surrounded by each other's warmth.

...

A/N: The song she sings in this chapter is 'Prayer' by Secret Garden.

Last chapter's song was from 'The Chemical Worker's Song (Process Man)' by Great Big Sea.

Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed.

In the next chapter? Galadriel gets Maggie alone to question her. This oughta be good. :) I have family in town for the next week, but I also have chronic insomnia, so expect at least one update by Tuesday or so. Love ya.


	9. There's a weight in your eyes

A/N: This is a bit of a short one, but I wanted to get it out on paper edit: Word count tells me otherwise. Huh. A little bit of goofing off, a little bit of smut, and lots of fellowship love.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, followed and PM'ed. Special thanks to Borys68, whose critiques have reminded me of a few things I need to keep in mind. :)

Not knowing much about firearms, I kind of bullshitted my way around a few things. Pardon my ignorance, if you notice it. Dramatic licence?

...

Chapter Nine - There's a weight in your eyes, I can't admit

...

A gentle breeze stirred the drapes of the tent, and a beam of moonlight filtered in, dancing across the lovers' faces. Maggie slept fitfully, and felt a presence near the tent. She sat up abruptly, pulling the sheet against her chest, as the curtains parted and the Lady of the Wood stood before her.

The golden-haired elf smiled at her.

"I wish to speak with you alone," she said, softly. "I will wait outside while you dress." Maggie nodded at her, and, careful not to disturb Boromir, who let out a disgruntled snore as she slipped off of the bed. She pulled the white, flowing nightdress over her head, and headed out of the tent, barefoot.

Galadriel led her down to a private garden, with a silver basin in the middle on a pedestal. Maggie could hear water splashing nearby. It felt almost surreal, like a dream, as she stood before the beautiful Elven lady, who gave her a knowing smile.

"I'm not going to get a lecture about sneaking a man into my tent, am I?" Maggie asked. Galadriel let out a throaty laugh.

"No," she said. "I remember very well what it was like to be young and in love. I imagine you do not have many chances for privacy on this journey, so I hope you take advantage of your time in safety here."

"Well," Maggie grinned. "Your Lord of the Wood is pretty good looking." Galadriel smiled at her.

"However," she said. "That is not the reason why I have brought you here, as you well know."

"Yes," Maggie replied. "You already know how I came to be here."

"I do," the elf responded. "I apologize for the intrusion on your thoughts, but it is often the swiftest way to obtain information, and I needed to know if any of the Fellowship brought ill will to my realm. Of all things, the safety of my people is first."

"Understandable."

"What concerns me is what your presence here actually means," she continued, filling a silver ewer with water burbling up from the spring. "I cannot see all things, and yet you have knowledge of how this will end. How?"

"In my world, this is a myth. A story, written by a man. I never would have believed it to be real," Maggie shook her head. "Sometimes I still don't, it seems like it could all be a dream. I have a feeling that my body in my world is in a coma - stasis, due to injury. There was a storm before I came here. I'm off tangent. Anyway, I last heard the story about ten years ago."

"Ten years is but a blink to an elf," Galadriel interjected. "But human memories are much shorter. Do you remember much of this story?"

"I remember enough," Maggie said. "And I worry about one man in particular."

"Your lover," Galadriel breathed, reading the pain in Maggie's eyes.

"He's supposed to die," Maggie said. "Shot to death by orcs. And then the Fellowship splits. And I don't know if I can save him."

"You were brought here for some purpose," Galadriel said. "The Valar work in mysterious ways, and I wonder if they have brought you here to save him, knowing what his fate would be."

"That's what I thought," Maggie said. "I have medical skill. I don't know exactly what kills him in the story, but he is pierced by arrows. Depending on where those arrows hit? I could save him. Or I could prevent him from being hit by them to begin with. It's hard to tell."

"Will you look into the Mirror?" Galadriel asked. "Perhaps it will hold some answers for us." Maggie nodded, and Galadriel raised the ewer, pouring the contents into the silver basin. She breathed some words in Elvish, and Maggie leaned forward to look.

At first, all she saw was her own reflection, then the surface rippled, as if a pebble had been thrown in the middle, and a scene emerged. She and Boromir were in Helm's Deep, fighting for Rohan with the rest of the fellowship. It rippled again, and it showed a man who looked startlingly similar to Boromir holding up Boromir's horn, which had been cleaved in two, and he ran his hand over bloodied leather armour, tears streaming down his face. More ripples, and a silent scene of Boromir and a grey-haired man yelling at each other emerged, and Boromir threw something down on the table before the other man, then stormed off, his face unreadable. The scene changed again, and showed she and Boromir at Aragorn's coronation, hands clasped and smiling.

Maggie breathed a sigh of relief.

"The Mirror does not always tell the future," Galadriel warned. "It simply shows what may come to be, if certain paths are taken."

"I understand," Maggie nodded. "It doesn't seem as if the prevention of his death will endanger Frodo's mission."

"You mentioned that the Fellowship splits," Galadriel looked into her eyes. "Frodo does succeed?"

"Yes," Maggie said, with certainty. "He and Sam travel to Mordor, with the creature Gollum. And in the end, the Ring is destroyed."

Galadriel breathed a sigh of relief. "I had foreseen it, but as I said, not all I see is truth."

"I have seen war," Maggie said. "But in my world, good and evil are not as black and white as that. Most things lay in the grey area. Sauron is the epitome of evil, and his existence threatens the entire world."

She gazed into Galadriel's eyes, who looked back at her with the weight of the wisdom and sorrow of millenia. Maggie nodded at her.

"I will play my part," she said. "To the best of my ability. We will not fail." Galadriel bowed her head.

"Your confidence reassures me," she took Maggie's hands in her own. "It will not be an easy path, but you are wise, for one so young. I will place my faith in you to keep the fellowship from straying from their path."

"Well, Lord knows men can't do anything on their own," Maggie gave her a wicked smile. Galadriel laughed and shook her head.

"The wisdom of a woman should not be underestimated," the elf agreed.

"Amen, my Lady. Amen."

"Now, you should return to your lover, before he wakes," Galadriel smiled at Maggie, and cupped her cheek. "Does the rest of the Fellowship know of your relationship?"

"Not all of them," Maggie muttered. "Aragorn knows, and Legolas knows. I have a feeling Gandalf suspected, crafty old bugger. But I think most the hobbits are altogether oblivious, except maybe Sam, who is way smarter than people give him credit for. I wouldn't be surprised if Gimli has noticed, either. I think we'll reveal the nature of our relationship before we leave your borders."

"I believe that would be a wise course," Galadriel replied. "And it soothes me to know that Gandalf will return. I did not know there was a way to defy death. Perhaps there is hope beyond death for us all. My granddaughter wishes to become mortal for her love, but I fear it will bring her sorrow, as Aragorn will not live forever, and death will part them and break her heart."

"Death cannot stop true love," Maggie quoted. "All it can do is delay it for a while."

Galadriel smiled at her, nodding, and released her hand. "Go."

...

As the sun rose and cast a golden glow over the woods of Lothlorien, Maggie woke quietly. Her head was pillowed on Boromir's chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath her cheek, and his heartbeat thudded against her ear. She raised her head, and smiled at him. His hair was fanned out on the pillow, and he looked far more peaceful than he had since they had entered the woods. She turned slightly, and reached a hand up to brush over his cheek.

His eyes fluttered open, and as he focused on her face, he smiled.

"Good morning," he rasped, his throat heavy with sleep.

"Morning," she replied, trailing a finger down his sternum. "I had a visitor last night."

"Oh?" Boromir raised an eyebrow, looking worried. "Should I leave? I would not want to bring you shame by being found in your bed."

"No, no," Maggie snickered. "It was the Lady of the Wood, and she wholeheartedly approves of us being together, she told me so. She wanted to talk to me about my role in this quest, and how my being here will change the course. She has great gifts of foresight, and we think that this will work out for the benefit of all."

"I'm glad to hear that," Boromir said. "But that woman scares me."

"She's not so bad," Maggie laughed. "Once you get to know her. She's quite sweet, actually."

"Well, we'll be here for some time, so perhaps I will have time to change my opinion."

"Hey, she set us up with a sweet private tent," Maggie pointed out. "She's all but encouraging hanky panky."

"Hanky panky?" Boromir looked at her quizzically.

"Earth slang," Maggie chuckled. "Basically means anything that happens between a couple that they probably wouldn't want someone else to watch."

"Oh," he said. "Well, I think I enjoy this 'hanky panky'." He leaned down to brush his lips over hers. She curled up in his arms.

"We should probably get up," she said. "And we should probably also let the others know there's something going on between us. Last thing we want is to trod on anyone's feelings."

"I agree, on the second," he replied, but pulled her tighter against him. "However, I would be content to lie here all day." Maggie giggled, and ran her hands along his sides. He squirmed.

"Ooh," she teased. "Someone's ticklish!"

"I'll show you ticklish!" Boromir sat up and tackled her, tickling her sides. To his dismay, she had no reaction, and responded by attacking his ribcage with her fingers until he could hardly breathe for laughing.

"You little minx!" he choked. "I will have my revenge."

"I'll bet," she said, darting out of bed and, finding her clean clothes folded on a table beside the bed, began to dress. He watched her intently, as she pulled the nightdress over her head and stood naked before him, the morning sun giving her skin an ethereal glow. She smiled at him coquettishly, and pulled on her panties, before putting on her bra.

"What is that contraption?" he asked, as she hooked it and slipped the straps over her shoulder.

"We call it a bra," she replied. "It keeps your tits from bouncing all over the place. Especially handy for those who are more generously endowed than me. You ever try running with breasts? You could give yourself a black eye." Boromir laughed at the image. "I have two of them. The other one is more for, well, activity. It keeps them in check a bit better. But this one makes my breasts look better." She modeled it for him.

"You do look enticing in that," he said. "Maybe you should come over here so I can take it off of you."

"Mmm," she smirked at him, running her hands down her sides. "Do you like what you see?"

The tenting of the sheets at his waist answered her question for her.

"Maybe I could be convinced," she said, climbing on the bed to straddle him. He groaned in pleasure, and ran his hands over her lace-covered breasts.

"I really do like this," he said, feeling her nipples harden.

"Someday I'll bust out high heels and a mini-skirt and really blow your mind."

He looked at her questioningly.

"You'll have to wait and see," she leaned down to kiss him, and tugged the sheet away from his waist. He pulled her underwear off, and she ground her wet centre against him. He tried to turn her onto her back, but she shook her head at him.

"I want to ride you," she whispered. He shuddered, and she sank down onto him, her weight on his hips pushing him deliciously deep. She sat up, and placed his hands on her hips, and began to grind against him.

The sight of her perched on his cock, her head thrown back in pleasure, was almost too much to take. He loved watching her face as she moved over him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and a flush across her cheekbones. She looked down at him with hooded eyes, and braced her hands on his chest before speeding up.

It didn't take long before she was clenching around him, moaning his name as she climaxed. He gripped her hard enough to leave pale bruises, and exploded inside of her, lifting his hips off of the bed to drive as deeply inside of her as he could.

She collapsed on top of him, and nestled her head in his neck. His arms came around her, and he panted from the exertion.

"I did not know there were other ways we could do that," Boromir admitted. "I thought I was supposed to be on top."

"Honey," she replied. "You don't even know the tiniest beginnings of what two people can do to each other."

"I am the most eager student."

"I know."

...

After they dressed, the two made their way back to the section of the camp where breakfast was waiting for them. Maggie took a bowl of berries and something that looked and smelled like yogurt, and drizzled honey over it.

"Mmm," she said, as she slipped the spoon out of her mouth. "I gotta say, you Elves know how to eat."

Legolas chuckled, and bit into an apple with a flourish. Gimli scoffed.

"You haven't attended a Dwarven feast," he said.

"You're right," replied Maggie. "I haven't. But so far? Elves are winning."

Legolas looked smug.

"So," Aragorn said, looking up at Boromir from where he was sharpening his sword. "You weren't in the tent this morning. Or when I woke up in the middle of the night. Do I snore and not know about it?"

Boromir's cheeks and the tips of his ears turned red. Aragorn looked at him gleefully and cackled.

Pippin looked back and forth between the two men in confusion.

"Does that mean you were visiting a certain lady?" Aragorn asked, quasi-innocently.

"Perhaps," Boromir said cryptically. Legolas hid a smile behind his hand. Maggie sat back to watch the exchange, amused.

"Ooh," said Merry obliviously. "Do you have an Elf lady friend we should know about? They are awfully pretty."

"Not an Elf," Boromir bit out through clenched teeth.

"Oh?" said Frodo. "So who is this lady?"

Maggie coughed. Eight pairs of eyes turned to her. She waggled her fingers.

"Told you!" said Sam, punching Frodo on the shoulder. "I knew it!"

"You let him take your virtue?" Gimli asked. "You are unmarried!"

"Oh, believe me, my virtue has been gone for well over a decade," Maggie snickered. "If there's anyone who you need to worry about being corrupted, it's him."

"Hah!" Merry said. "Boromir was a virgin!"

"I was not!"

"He wasn't," Maggie agreed. "But not by much." Boromir gave her a dirty look. She raised her hands in surrender. "I'm not complaining, believe me."

"So is not being a maiden until marriage... normal... where you come from?" Pippin asked tentatively.

"In some parts of the world," Maggie replied. "In mine? Yeah, very much so, very few people are virgins past the age of eighteen. And I can't believe I'm talking about my sexual history with a bunch of hobbits. This feels perverse."

"I'd never met a woman who had lain with other women," Boromir blurted. "I was shocked."

Everyone's head whipped around to look at Maggie. She furrowed her brow at Boromir.

"Uh," he said. "Sorry."

Silence fell over the table for a few uncomfortable moments.

"Well," Merry said. "Maybe you can give us some advice. I'm pretty rubbish with the ladies."

Everyone laughed, the tension dispersed. Maggie nodded at Merry thankfully. He winked.

"You will learn from the master," Maggie smirked.

"As long as the lessons are purely theoretical," Boromir warned.

"As if!" Maggie snorted. "I'm hardly going to become the fellowship whore."

"That wasn't what I meant," Boromir eyes widened in horror. Maggie's shoulders shook in laughter.

"You are way too easy to wind up," she said gleefully.

"I know," Aragorn agreed. "Isn't it wonderfully fun?"

"I think I have a new hobby," she said, draping an arm around his shoulders. Boromir wrinkled his nose at them.

"I'm glad to not be the target of your teasing," Aragorn said, shoving her arm off of him. She started humming his least favourite song, and he flicked her ear in response.

"So," Aragorn changed the subject. "Haldir was here before. He was looking for you, Maggie. He said he'd be back in an hour or two."

"He probably wants to cash in on our deal," Maggie scooped the last of her breakfast into her mouth.

"You'd be correct," said a smooth voice from behind her. Maggie looked over her shoulder, and Haldir stood there, looking formidable. "I'm very curious about this mysterious weapon of yours."

"Do you have somewhere safe where we can go to fire it?" Maggie asked. Haldir nodded. "Well, give me a minute to go get my gear, and I'll meet you back here."

...

Haldir had led her to an archery range, in a clearing well away from anyone's homes. There was a high wall behind the targets, to keep arrows from disappearing into the woods.

Maggie sat down on a stone bench and swung her rifle around in front of her. Haldir sat beside her. She walked him through the various parts of the gun, and showed him how to brace it against his shoulder and look down the sights.

"I imagine you know which eye you are," Maggie asked. Haldir nodded.

"You use the same method to fire a bow," he said. "I am right eyed. You?"

"I'm a left eye," she smiled at him. "Now, you treat every single gun as if it is loaded, and you never put your finger on the trigger unless you are ready to fire, and if you are ready to fire, you need to know that you can easily kill someone with this weapon."

She stood him up at a suitable distance from the target, and adjusted his stance.

"Okay, just to warn you, it will make a really loud noise when it fires, and it does kick back, so brace yourself for that. Ready?"

"Ready."

"FIRING," Maggie yelled. Haldir squeezed the trigger, and hit the centre of the target nearly dead on.

"Nice shot!" Maggie exclaimed. Haldir looked at the gun in wonder, running his hand along the barrel.

"Fascinating weapon," he said. "And I can see how deadly this could be. And the other one?"

"They call that a handgun. A bit more portable, and doesn't take as long to set up to take a shot. I like using my rifle lying down on my stomach, which helps with the recoil a bit, so unless I can set up, I prefer the handgun. Better for close range fighting. Wanna try it?"

Haldir nodded at her, and she took the rifle from him, turned on the safety, and pulled the handgun from her belt. She showed him how to grip it with two hands, and once again, when he fired, he hit the mark almost perfectly. He narrowly missed his forehead with the recoil, but for a first shot, he did pretty well. He held the gun in one hand, testing the weight.

"This would be a lot less cumbersome than a crossbow," he said. "What happens when you run out of... what are they called?"

"Bullets," Maggie supplied. "I have some extra ammunition for both, luckily, so I'm good for a while. Once I run out completely? Well, I guess I need to learn how to use a sword."

"Or perhaps a crossbow," Haldir nodded. "Do you know how to use a sword?"

"Well," Maggie smiled. "I know you stick the pointy end in the other guy."

Haldir laughed.

"That's a good start," he said. "Perhaps I can show you how to use an Elvish knife. You've seen the ones Legolas carries?" Maggie nodded. "They're quite lightweight, and it would serve you well to learn how to use one. Unless you want to try a bow."

"I've never fired a bow," Maggie shook her head. "I don't know how well I'd do."

"Elvish bows are far more lightweight than the ones made by Men," Haldir said. "And I have some smaller bows that we use for training young elves."

"Okay," she said. He walked over to a small shelter on the edge of the clearing, and opened a cupboard, taking out a small bow, a crossbow, and some arrows and bolts.

"Here," he said, handing her the bow and a bracer. "Put this on your wrist, so the bowstring doesn't cut you." He helped her slip it on, and drew his own bow. She nocked an arrow, and copied his stance. "Keep you elbow up a little higher," he instructed. "And sight the target. If you trust in where your arrow is going, it will go there."

She took a deep breath, and let the arrow fly. It hit the edge of the target, not as good of a shot as Haldir's.

"That was an excellent first try," he said. "Very few hit the target right away. You have a good eye." He let his own arrow go, and it hit the bullseye dead on. "I've had hundreds of years to practice. I think, however, with a little time and some training, you could be proficient with a bow. It would take time to build the upper body strength to draw a full-sized bow, and the training bow would not be suitable for battle. Try the crossbow."

He showed her how to load a bolt into it, and she held it up and fired it easily. She hit the centre of her target perfectly.

"All right!" she crowed. She held up her hand to high five him, and he looked at her curiously. "Oh, yeah, uh, slap my hand with yours."

"If you say so," he said, and did so. "Is this some kind of greeting where you come from?"

"It's called a high five," she laughed. "It's more like a celebration."

"High five," he looked at his hand. "Strange."

They played around with bow and crossbow for a while longer, and then headed off to lunch.

...

While Haldir took Maggie to the archery range, Boromir headed back to the tent he had shared with Aragorn to gather up his things, figuring that since everyone now knew, he might as well move his belongings to Maggie's tent. To his dread, Aragorn was sitting inside, reclined on the pillows, reading an Elvish text.

"Hello," Boromir mumbled.

"Hello yourself, loverboy," Aragorn teased. "So, tell me, when did this start? I know something was up when we were in Rivendell."

"We kissed in Rivendell," Boromir coloured. "But last night we consummated our relationship."

"Well," Aragorn said. "Congratulations."

They looked at each other for a few moments.

"That's all? No teasing?"

"I'm happy for you," Aragorn shrugged. "I miss Arwen, I know very well what it feels like to be in love. I tease, but I do care about you. Both of you."

"I appreciate that," Boromir said, dropping down beside the other man. "I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to be apart from your love."

"I know I will see her again," he said. "And we will be together."

"Maggie said as much," Boromir said.

"She told Arwen that, too," Aragorn agreed. "She seemed much happier when I left her after hearing that. I know her father does not approve of our relationship or our plans."

"Maggie's parents are dead," Boromir told him. "I'm not sure she has any family left, really."

"Well, in that case," Aragorn smiled at him. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you."

Boromir laughed.

...

A/N: My home is swarming with family members this week, so I'm unsure of how much I'll get to write, but I will post again this week. I tend to be a bit of a night owl (I write between 10pm and 3am, usually), so insomnia means more chapters!

Last chapter's song: Glitter in the Air by Pink

For anyone wondering, I imagine Maggie's singing voice to be a bit like Pink's, maybe with more of a Janis Joplin vibe - that bluesy scratchy sound. Not quite as much of a powerhouse, but pleasant enough. Her speaking voice is pretty deep and throaty, too. :) Just in case anyone wanted to hear her in their heads.


	10. I pulled the world from under you

A/N: I've been asleep all bloody day because of a stupid migraine (the meds knock you right out), so now, obviously, I'm wide awake. So have another chapter. Depending on how much of an insomniac I am tonight, another might follow.

I'm not sure how well I've edited this chapter, because I'm still a little dopey from the drugs, so if you notice anything blatantly moronic, please PM me and let me know.

No smut this time (hey, can't be all about the sex), but there is playful banter, storytelling, and songs - people are saying that they like that, so have some more!

Love to everyone who has been reading. I get so excited when my inbox pings with a review, favourite, or follower. You make everything worth it.

...

Chapter Ten - You say that I pulled the world from under you

...

The next few days in the woods passed by incredibly fast in the eyes of the Fellowship. It was a time to rest and regroup, and also to remind themselves of the reasons they were on this quest in the first place.

Maggie spent most of her time fooling around at the archery range. Haldir had ended up having to return to the borders as marchwarden, but said that he would return before the Fellowship left, so Maggie dragged Legolas with her instead. Aragorn joined them a few times, but he spent most of his time sequestered with Celeborn discussing plans for their journey.

Boromir would come to watch them on occasion. He wasn't much of an archer himself, though he could draw a bow and hit a target with an acceptable amount of accuracy. His skills were more in the close combat camp, and he would spar with Legolas on occasion, too. Even Gimli joined in sometimes. The hobbits generally stuck together, keeping to themselves, and soaking up as much of the rest and good food as they could. Sam had busied himself tending to Galadriel's garden, and, much to the amusement of the Lady of the Wood, it flourished even more than it had under the hands of her skilled elves.

On this particular morning, Legolas was showing Maggie how to repair the fletching on crossbow bolts, sitting in the middle of the camp with their tools spilled out over the table. Boromir sat nearby, sharpening his sword. Aragorn was present, though he seemed more agitated than usual. Merry and Pippin were playing what appeared to Maggie to be some version of backgammon, with Sam and Frodo taking sides and giving advice and arguing amicably.

"Aragorn," Maggie said, as the man paced past her for the tenth time, and yanked on his tunic. "Sit down. You're giving me the willies."

"My apologies," he replied, sitting down with a sigh. "I'm just anxious to continue on our journey. Planning with Celeborn is starting to wear on me. There is so much that has to be left to chance."

"Are you meeting him later today?" Maggie asked, twirling a pretty feather between her fingers.

"This afternoon," Aragorn nodded.

"Maybe I should come with you," Maggie offered. "I haven't been of much use to you, which is stupid, because I have some knowledge of what will happen."

"You have a point," Aragorn leaned back against the base of a tree.

"I'm sorry I've spent most of my time goofing off," Maggie said, contritely. "I should be helping you out more. I'm not much of a tactician, but I can at least help point you in the right direction."

"You have no need to apologize," Aragorn waved his hand dismissively. "We all need a little rest. The journey so far has been taxing."

"Still," Maggie leaned forward to watch what Legolas' nimble hands were doing. "I could be of use to you, so I'm coming with you today."

"Very well," Aragorn smiled at her. "As if I could stop you, anyway." Maggie flicked a piece of shaft of a feather at him in response. He dodged it easily, and chuckled.

"Pay attention," Legolas chided. "If you cannot properly attach the fletching, your arrows won't fly straight."

"Sorry," Maggie said, biting back a smile and leaning on the table to watch what the elf was doing. He split the quill of a feather with his knife, and as he drew it along, a whoop from the hobbits' direction startled him, and his knife slipped, ruining it.

He threw down the knife and let out what Maggie could only assume was an Elvish curse. She could hear Aragorn snicker behind her.

"I think I have a better tool for that particular task," Maggie said, reaching for her medical pack. She fished out a sharp pair of scissors, and gestured to Legolas to hand her a feather. "Show me where I'm supposed to cut it." He drew his finger along the line, and she deftly snipped the feather along the middle of the shaft, and handed it to the elf, who admired her handiwork.

"Let me see those," he said, taking the scissors from her. She showed him how to slip the handles over his fingertips. "Ingenious design, really. They're similar to the shears that are used on sheep, but much smaller."

"I should teach you how to use them properly," Maggie said, running her hand through her shaggy mop. "I could use a good haircut."

"That is not a skill we Elves in particular possess," Legolas said. "Braids are more our domain. Perhaps Aragorn could help you, as Men tend to shear their hair from time to time."

"I like you hair longer," Boromir chimed in, scooting closer to her and brushing his hand through the strands.

"It gets in my face, though," she complained, blowing the ragged bangs out of her face to demonstrate. "And having long hair in battle is a stupid idea. All I need is some orc to grab me by the hair and drag me off to his lair or wherever it is orcs live."

"We would not let that happen to you, lass," Gimli said.

"I miss my mohawk," Maggie grinned at him.

"Mohawk?" Boromir quirked a brow at her.

"You shave both sides of your head short, sometimes to the skin. And you leave the middle part long, and use a type of glue to spike it straight up." She took the ends of her hair and held it up in demonstration.

"Where did anyone get the idea to do that?" Legolas asked incredulously.

"Native warriors used to do it," Maggie replied. "It makes you look pretty fierce, actually. Imagine a man with black hair, sticking straight up in the middle, decorated with feathers, war paint on his face, running at you? Pretty freaky if you've never seen it before."

"Hmm," Aragorn said. "You have a point. Not a very ladylike style, nonetheless."

"No," Maggie chuckled. "But I'm hardly the most ladylike of women."

The group fell quiet (except for the hobbits and their game, which from the sound of it, Merry was winning), and Maggie concentrated on working on the crossbow bolts. She cut some larger feathers so Legolas could repair the fletching on some of his own arrows, humming to herself. As she was attaching them with some sticky glue, she managed to glue one of the feathers to the table, and she ripped it as she pulled it back up.

"Why you little pieces of shit," she said, trying to flick the stuck downy bits off of her finger. She looked up when she realized everyone was staring at her. "What?"

"I've never heard a lady curse like that before," Gimli said, chuckling.

"I've got way worse," she said, picking the strands off, where they stuck to her other hand instead. "I've just kept it clean around you guys, didn't want to corrupt you or anything. Oh for fuck's sake. Legolas, help me out here, wouldja?"

The elf, laughing, gently wiped the glue and feather bits off of her fingers with a bit of rag.

"Just make sure to watch your mouth around Celeborn this afternoon," Aragorn teased. "He already thinks you're a bit crazy."

"Crazy old Maggers," Maggie said proudly. "That's me."

"Maggers?" Boromir wrinkled his nose at her.

"My coworkers like to give me new nicknames," Maggie snickered. "Maggie's already short for Margaret."

"I had forgotten that," Boromir said. "That is the name you gave Elrond."

"It's an old lady name where I come from," Maggie said. "So I go by Maggie. They also call me Mags, Marge, Madge, Meg, Molly, and Margie. It gets a bit silly."

"I think I prefer Maggie," Aragorn said. "It suits you."

"Only my grandmother called me Margaret," Maggie chuckled. "And then, only when I'd done something bad."

"Boromir mentioned that your parents are dead?" Aragorn asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "They died in an accident when I was eight years old. My mom's parents raised me, pretty much."

"I am sorry to hear that," Aragorn said. "My father died when I was but two years old, and my mother died about ten years ago."

"My mother died when I was ten," Boromir added. "It seems that many of us lost our parents when we were young."

"My parents are both alive," Gimli said. "You met my father at the Council."

"I remember," Maggie said. "Hey, did you know, there's a town near where I come from called Gimli?"

"Really?" the dwarf raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I'd forgotten about it, but yeah, my granddad had a hunting cottage near there. It isn't a very big town, maybe about two thousand people, but we used to go fishing there."

"I have a town named after me," Gimli poked Legolas. "And here you're just a Prince of Mirkwood."

"I'm not sure it was named after you," Maggie laughed. "But let's just say it was, for bragging rights. I think there was also a prince named Pippin."

"Ooh, was he named after me?" Pippin cried from behind Legolas, where he was still losing.

"Considering he died over a thousand years ago, probably not," Maggie chuckled. "But they did write a musical about him. He was a hunchback or something. I don't remember."

"Any princes named Sam?" Sam asked hopefully. Maggie laughed.

"Not that I can remember," Maggie said. "But I think there was a Saint Samuel. Saint Sam."

"What's a saint?" Frodo asked.

"Well, there are a lot of religions in my world, but most people in my country are Christians, which means they believe there is one God who created the world," she explained. "In some variants of the Christian faith, saints are humans who are recognized for being especially holy and virtuous, and who do a lot of good in the world. I don't know a whole lot about it, but I think they usually have performed some kind of miracle, and a lot of them died as martyrs for their faith."

"This God sounds much like Eru Ilúvatar," Legolas said. "He was the creator. All of it is rather complicated to explain, though."

"Believe me," Maggie chuckled. "So is Christianity. I don't even want to get into it, we'll be here for weeks."

"I like the sound of miracles, but I don't think I'd like to die," Sam said.

"You're practically a saint anyway," Maggie told him. "I don't think you'd need to die for it."

Sam smiled shyly in response.

"I can agree to that," Frodo said. "I don't know what I'd do without Sam."

As they were talking, an elf came down from the talans high in the trees, bearing a large basket full of food. Aragorn spoke to him in rapid Elvish, and the elf smiled and left.

"Tell us another story," Merry said, as they tucked into a lunch of bread, cold meats, cheese and fruit.

"Hmm," Maggie said. "How about a love story?"

"Ooh," said Pippin, around a mouthful of bread. "I like love stories."

"Well, this one is the tale of a beautiful woman, and a beast," she said. "And it has some songs to go with it."

"Even better!" Pippin clapped his hands.

"Well, I'll do my best," she smiled, and launched into the tale of Beauty and the Beast. The group listened intently, and everyone applauded when she reached the end of the tale, where Belle's love for the Beast resurrects him into the Prince he had once been.

"Very good," Boromir said, giving her a kiss. "I like your stories."

Aragorn smiled, and looked up at the position of the sun through the canopy of the trees.

"It is time to meet with Celeborn," Aragorn said, and got to his feet, offering Maggie his hand to help her up. The two headed up the stairs into the trees, while the rest of the fellowship discussed the story she had told them.

...

Aragorn and Maggie waited outside Celeborn's chambers to be admitted. One of the two guards stationed outside entered the room, then opened the door for them.

"Ah, Lady Maggie," Celeborn said, as he stood up from where he had been sitting behind an elegantly carved desk. "I was wondering if you would join us. My wife tells me you have information that would be of much use."

"I hope so," Maggie replied sincerely. "I'll do my best, anyway."

"I do hope you have been enjoying your time in Caras Galadhon," he smiled at her. "Haldir told me that you were spending much time at the archery range." Maggie nodded.

"She's just spent the past hour telling us a wonderful story," Aragorn put in. "She's quite the storyteller." Maggie blushed.

"None of them are my stories," she said modestly. "But they're new to you, because they're from my world."

"I do love a good tale," Celeborn said. "Perhaps you may join us for dinner tonight and regale us with one of your tales? The rest of the Fellowship is invited, as well."

"I could try," Maggie said. "I'll have to think of something suitable."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Aragorn said.

"Come, sit down," Celeborn gestured to two chairs, that Aragorn pulled before the desk. He seated himself behind it, and pulled out a scroll, unrolling it to reveal a large, intricate map. Maggie squinted at it. It was written entirely in Elvish.

"You'll have to translate for me," she said.

"Well, we've determined that the best course is for you to take the river Anduin," Celeborn traced the river with his fingertip. "You will have to leave the river when you reach the falls of Rauros."

"We'll be attacked by orcs near there," Maggie said. "That's where the big statues are, right?"

"The Gates of Argonath," Aragorn nodded. "The Pillars of the Kings."

"Yeah, those," Maggie said. "Frodo and Sam will leave us there, and head to Mordor alone. Don't look at me like that. Do you think all of us could pass unnoticed into Mordor? And they'll be fine. Well, as fine as anyone heading into the gates of Hell itself could be. Merry and Pippin will be captured by Uruk-Hai, and taken to Isengard. We will have to follow them, and we will be reunited with Gandalf. Then we will enter Rohan and go to Edoras." Celeborn traced the path with his finger, circling Edoras. "After that, there will be a great battle at Helm's Deep. Saruman will send an army to overwhelm us, but we will win."

Aragorn breathed in wonder. Celeborn met Maggie's eyes, and saw the pain within them.

"What is the matter?" the Elf Lord asked.

"Boromir is supposed to die," Maggie said. "In the tale from my homeland, he is killed by the orcs after trying to take the Ring from Frodo, which is what makes Frodo break from the Fellowship."

"Does Galadriel know of this?" Celeborn asked. Maggie nodded.

"Yes," she replied. "She took me to her mirror. She thinks I can save him without altering the course of the War. I'm worried, yet I think I might have been sent here to change that. But there's more." Celeborn looked at her expectantly.

"Haldir will lead an party of Elves to Helm's Deep to assist," she said. "And he will die there." Her voice cracked as she spoke. "I don't know if I can save him, too. I don't think the Lady knows this, because I hadn't gotten to know Haldir when I spoke to her, so it didn't come to mind, with my concerns about Boromir."

"I will discuss this with her," Celeborn promised. "Haldir is very valuable to us. Though it is honourable for an elf to die in battle, it appears that he has become your friend, and you would not wish to see this happen." Maggie shook her head, and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I think that is enough for now. It might not be good to know all of the future, and Aragorn can consult you later on in your journey, if he needs to. Go back to your friends, and we will see you tonight. Do not despair, Lady Maggie. All will be well." Celeborn gave her a fatherly smile, and Aragorn put his arm around her, giving her a gentle hug. She gave both of them a tentative smile, and let Aragorn lead her away.

...

Maggie soaked in a hot bath, the same two elves attending on her. As they were joining the Lord and Lady of the Wood for dinner, she didn't really want to wear her grubby camo pants, so as she dried off, Inwel brought in a selection of gowns for her to peruse. Luckily, since she was tall and slender, most of the Elven designs actually fit pretty well, if a little loose in the bust. She selected a gown of deep grey silk, embroidered delicately with intricate silver flowers and vines. There was a white undergown with long sleeves, and she looked at it critically as Baineth held it up for her.

"Hang on a second," she said. She pulled the gown over her head, and settled it on her body. It was cut low in front, with a laced bodice. The lack of undersleeves showed off her toned biceps, and it had a low back as well, showing off her back tattoo. The elves looked at her quizzically, and she smiled at them and whirled around to inspect the movement of the dress. "I like it like this."

A knock sounded at the door. Inwel went to answer it, and Boromir entered. He started at the sight of Maggie in such a beautiful dress, even if it seemed a little strange to him.

"You look amazing," he said, bending to kiss her. "But shouldn't that have a shirt underneath?"

"There is some kind of underdress," she admitted. "But this looks more like one of the designs from where I come from. I like it like this. And it's quite warm out, I don't really want to be in long sleeves anyway."

"I can appreciate that," he said. "Now, I need to go dress myself. I'll meet you in a little less than an hour?" She nodded at him, and he kissed her again, and smiled at the two elves as he left.

Inwel picked up a hairbrush, and looked at her expectantly. Maggie nodded, and let them braid her hair as best they could. They put two jeweled combs into either side, and then held up a handmirror so she could inspect it. She smiled at them, and thanked them in Elvish, one of the few things she had managed to learn to say, apart from simple greetings.

She dug around in her bag and pulled out her lip stain and mascara, and the two elves watched curiously as she applied it. She returned the items to her bag, and left to return to her tent.

...

Boromir and Maggie walked arm in arm up the winding staircase, following Legolas and Aragorn. Boromir was dressed in an Elvish tunic, grey and deep blue, and had pulled his hair back off of his face in a half-ponytail. Aragorn was dressed similarly, in purple and grey, and Legolas wore a silver tunic, his hair braided as usual.

They reached the dining hall, and were admitted by two Elven guards. Celeborn and Galadriel were already there, seated at a long table up on a dias, as well as a select few elves, and they rose to greet the fellowship.

"Welcome," Galadriel said. She smiled over the group. "Celeborn has asked Maggie to regale us with a tale from her world, after we eat."

"You're in for a real treat," Gimli said.

"Do you know what story you'll tell?" Boromir asked her. Maggie nodded, grinning. They sat down at the long table, and everyone ate heartily, drinking Elvish wine and chatting.

When the last of the platters had been cleared, and everyone had eaten their fill, Celeborn looked at Maggie expectantly, and she stood up and walked around to the middle of the room. She cleared her throat, and looked out over the group a little nervously.

"Well, this is one of the most famous love stories of all time," Maggie said. "It was written by a man named Shakespeare, who wrote a lot of plays and poems. This one is often performed as a play, and is written in a form of verse, but I'll only remember bits and pieces of the original writing. I know the story, though."

"We want to hear it!" Merry said excitedly.

"Okay, well, here goes," she closed her eyes for a moment. "I remember the beginning well:

Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

Do with their death bury their parents' strife.

The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,

And the continuance of their parents' rage,

Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,

Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;

The which if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend."

Everyone's eyes were focused on her intently, and she looked at her head.

"I only remember bits and pieces of the text after that," she said, and then launched into the rest of the tale as best she could. When she reached the balcony scene, where she recalled the most famous of verse well enough, she told it to them in the original way. Pippin leaned forward, his head on his hands. She went through the clandestine marriage, the deaths of Mercutio and Tybalt, Romeo's banishment, Juliet's plan to fake her own death to avoid an arranged marriage, and the messenger failing to reach Romeo, Romeo's suicide and Juliet's awakening to find him dead, and her own death.

When she reached the end of the tale, she spoke the well-remembered words from the closing of the play.

"A glooming peace this morning with it brings;

The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:

Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;

Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:

For never was a story of more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

As she finished, the group burst into applause around her.

"That was a fantastic tale," Boromir said.

"And so sad," said Sam.

"I only wish I could remember more of the verse," Maggie said.

"I think it's official," Frodo said. "You're the Fellowship storyteller."

"Well, they did call Shakespeare 'the Bard'," Maggie grinned.

"You're the bard, then," Pippin said with finality. Everyone laughed.

"That was excellent," Celeborn said, as she returned around the table to take her seat.

"She has a lot of songs, too," Pippin told the Elf-Lord with pride. Maggie blushed and shook her head.

"Oh no," she said. "Nuh uh."

"Come on," the hobbit pleaded.

"I did like that one that you sang our first night here," Legolas said. "And the other one about the Two Trees."

"As long as you don't sing the one about kings," Aragorn muttered beside her. Maggie laughed.

"Will you sing for us?" Galadriel asked, smiling at her kindly. Maggie, unable to refuse the Lady of the Wood, rose from her seat again, and walked shakily back to her position in front of the table. She sang first 'Prayer', and then 'The Two Trees', receiving hearty applause both times.

"Another!" Merry demanded cheerfully. Maggie blushed.

"Okay, one more, but only one more," she agreed. "And give me a minute to think of one."

She paused, and looked up.

"This one is for Frodo, our Ringbearer," she said. "It's called 'Will You Be There'." He gave her a gentle smile. She began to hum, and snap her fingers to get a beat going. If she was going to do Michael Jackson, she was going to do it right.

"Hold me

Like the river Jordan

And I will then say to thee

You are my friend

Carry me

Like you are my brother

Love me like a mother

Will you be there?

Weary

Tell me, will you hold me?

When wrong, will you scold me?

When lost will you find me?

But they told me

A man should be faithful

And walk when not able

And fight till the end

But I'm only human

Everyone taking control of me

Seems that the world's got a role for me

I'm so confused, will you show to me?

You'll be there for me?

And care enough to bear me?

Hold me, show me!

Lay your head lowly, lowly

Softly then boldly, yeah

Carry me there, I'm only human

Feed me, hold me

Love me and feed me, yeah

Kiss me and free me, yeah

I will feel blessed, I'm only human

Carry, carry

Carry me boldly, carry me

Lift me up slowly, yeah

Carry me there, I'm only human

Save me, feed me

Heal me and bathe me, lift me up, lift me up

Softly you say to me

I will be there."

She hummed the ending to the song, snapping her fingers, before ending it with a smile of understanding toward Frodo.

"I've never heard a song like that before," Celeborn admitted. "It seems some music from your world is quite different."

"You don't even know the tiniest bit," Maggie laughed. "I haven't even touched rock music yet."

"Rock?" Boromir asked, confused. "Why is it called rock?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Maggie chuckled. "But it'd make sense if you heard it."

"Will you teach us one of these 'rock' songs?" Celeborn asked. Maggie's eyes widened, like a deer caught in the headlights, at the idea of standing in front of what was essentially Elvish royalty and singing a Queen song. Boromir chuckled at her expression, knowing just how wild some of the things from her world were. Aragorn stepped in to save her.

"I think we've imposed on Maggie long enough," he said. "Why don't we have some Elvish music?"

"That I can provide," Galadriel said, and clapped her hands. Two of the elves from the table stood up, a male and a female. The woman positioned herself behind a harp in the corner, and the man launched into a beautiful, mournful song. Maggie smiled at him, basking in the exotic song.

It grew late, and the party dispersed. Celeborn thanked Maggie for her entertaining story and songs, and Galadriel drew her aside.

"I know my husband can be demanding," she said conspiratorially. "But your storytelling is very good. The songs are fascinating, too, and you have a pleasant voice."

"I know I sound a bit raspy," she said. "Your elves sounds far more beautiful, perfect really."

"Sometimes," said the elf sagely. "Imperfections make things even more interesting."

Maggie smiled at her thankfully. Galadriel drew a small drawstring bag out from her pocket, and gave it to Maggie.

"I have a gift for you," she said. "To thank you for tonight, and for the knowledge you have brought to us."

"You do not need to give me gifts," Maggie chided. "I give my knowledge willingly. I want us to succeed."

"I know," Galadriel said. "All the same, it is a token of my appreciation. Come, open it."

Maggie untied the strings, and into her hand dumped a ring. It was silver, with a perfect star sapphire in the centre. The band was woven knotwork of vines and leaves.

"Try it on," Galadriel urged. Maggie slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "I've never been much for wearing jewelry, but this? I shall wear it with pride. Thank you."

"You are very welcome," Galadriel said, smiling. Maggie pulled her in for a hug, surprising the elf, who tentatively put her arms around Maggie after settling into the woman's enthusiastic embrace. Maggie pulled back, and chuckled at the astonished look on the Lady's face.

"I wish for you to be reminded of Lothlorien," Galadriel said. "And know that you are always welcome within our borders."

"I couldn't forget this place if I tried," Maggie smiled. "Really."

"Now, it is getting late. Go to bed, young Maggie."

"I will. Thank you, again, for the gift."

...

A/N: Next time, we come to the end of the Fellowship's Lothlorien vacation, and Maggie teaches the Fellowship a Queen song.

Last chapter's title: Thief by Our Lady Peace. You might notice that I like the Canadian bands. :P

I am planning a little contest in the near future. As I mentioned, I do art stuff, and I'm working on drawing a cover for this story. Whoever wins the contest will win the original drawing. Just to give ya'll something to look forward to. ;)


	11. Through the darkest of your days

A/N: I know last chapter I said they'd be leaving Lothlorien, but as I started writing this, I realized a few scenes needed to take place before that would happen. So this chapter is happening first. Hope ya'll aren't too disappointed. This one is a bit more serious, but next chapter will be relatively lighthearted. Bit of smut here, but it's a little more flowery than usual.

Part of the love scene between Boromir and Maggie is borrowed from one of my favourite fanfiction writers - Roku Kyu's 'Bridge Over the Abyss'. Some of it is verbatim, some of it has been modified, but I loved her scene so much that I wanted to pay homage to it here. It's not a LotR fic - it's from an anime/manga called Fushigi Yuugi. If you've seen it, go read her fics. You won't be sorry. I first read that story almost a decade ago, and the scene has stuck with me that long.

My medical knowledge might not be perfect, but I've done my best to research what happens here. Most of my knowledge of midwifery comes from the 'Call the Midwife' book series by Jennifer Worth, which has been turned into a fabulous television series. Maggie is not a midwife, but midwife training is common in EMTs from rural areas, like she is.

...

Chapter Eleven - Through the darkest of your days

...

The next morning, Maggie headed to the archery range with Legolas, as usual. As she was loading the crossbow, the sapphire on her ring caught the light, and Legolas' keen eyes picked up on it.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, catching her hand in his, inspecting the ring closely.

"Galadriel gave it to me last night," Maggie replied. "Why?"

"Never before have I known a non-elf to receive a Healer's Ring," Legolas said, grinning. "She has a high opinion of you. In Elvish healing, there are two aspects - healing the body, and healing the spirit. These rings often enhance the abilities of the Elf-healers to touch the Fëa, the spirit, which speeds the healing process."

"Whoa," Maggie looked at the ring in wonder.

"Only the female healers wear these rings," he said. "And there are different levels, as well. The sapphire is the lowest level, and as you become more skilled, you receive a ruby, and finally a moonstone."

"That's amazing," she breathed. "But I'm not an elf. I know those with Elvish blood often have healing skills, but I'm as mortal as mortal gets."

"I think it's representative, in your case," Legolas said. "Though it's impossible to say if you might have some skill in healing the Fëa, despite your ancestry. That is quite a gift."

"I'll say," Maggie squinted closely at the ring.

"Well, shall we practice?" Legolas said, tugging an arrow out of his quiver.

"Good idea," she said.

...

At dusk, Maggie walked into the garden containing Galadriel's mirror. She had a feeling she would find the Elven lady there, and she was right.

"Hiya," Maggie said, approaching the fountain. Galadriel smiled at her.

"I knew I would find you here tonight," the elf said. "I suppose Legolas told you about the nature of my gift."

"He did," Maggie admitted. "And he seemed quite surprised, to boot."

"He would be," Galadriel said. "Aragorn explained to Celeborn about your history as a healer, and also mentioned that you studied a little Elvish medicine in Imladris."

"Mostly herbs," Maggie nodded. "Elrond gave me a book to study, as well. But that still doesn't explain why you've given this to me. I'm not an elf."

"No," Galadriel smiled. "That you are not. Yet I wondered if perhaps it might enhance your skills despite that. I wish for you to study under some of my Elvish healers for a couple of days, because I am curious to know whether or not it works."

"I don't speak Elvish," Maggie said, scratching her head. "That might be a problem."

"I've recalled Haldir from the borders early. He should be here by tomorrow morning. He will translate for you."

"That's a bit much," Maggie raised an eyebrow. "Surely he has more important things to do than to play translator for me?"

"He has an interest in the subject himself," Galadriel informed her. "He is quite the scholar, which is why he is one of the few elves in Lothlorien who can speak the Common Tongue. Neither of his brothers do. He has not studied a great deal of healing, and when I mentioned it to him, he seemed eager to take the chance."

"Well, then, that settles it," Maggie conceded. "I suppose your husband told you what I know about Haldir's fate."

"He did," Galadriel confirmed. "And I think that if you can prevent it, you must. Do not fret if you cannot, because sometimes the course of fate is unchangeable, but your knowledge may save his life as well as Boromir's."

"There's something else that's been bugging me," Maggie shook her head. "When I was speaking to Lord Celeborn in front of Aragorn, I told him that Merry and Pippin are to be captured and taken to Isengard. I don't think that is something I can, or should, change - they are an integral part of the battle for Middle Earth. But I feel like Aragorn might not agree, and wish to stop this particular event from happening."

"You might be correct," Galadriel replied. "Yet Aragorn is a reasonable man. I will speak with him myself. Certain events cannot be altered, and if the hobbits will not be harmed, I do not think he will object."

"I hope not. I wouldn't want to get on his bad side. I'm still a bit worried about Boromir, though."

"I know he has been tempted by the Ring," Galadriel said. "I have seen it in his mind. He will try to take it."

"That's the reason Frodo leaves," Maggie responded sadly.

"I pass no judgement on Boromir," Galadriel shook her head. "Frodo offered me the Ring, and my own heart has desired it as well."

"It seems it tempts us all," Maggie sat down at the edge of the spring. "To various degrees, of course. But Boromir is afraid that Gondor will fall without the strength of the Ring behind it."

"Which is why he will rely on your strength instead," Galadriel stood beside her and placed her hand on Maggie's shoulder. "Do not fear, Maggie, all will be well. Come, I will walk you back to your friends."

...

Maggie sat down around the dinner table in their camp, mulling over her conversation with Galadriel as she chewed on a piece of bread. The rest of the fellowship was also quiet, noticing the change from her usual chipper mood.

"Everything all right, Maggie?" Pippin asked, looking at her with confusion.

"Hmm?" Maggie looked up, surprised. "What? Oh. Yeah. Just thinking a bit."

"Did you speak with Lady Galadriel about the nature of that ring she gave you?" Legolas gestured at her hand.

"Do you know anything about it?" Boromir asked.

"I do, actually," Legolas said. "I shall let Maggie do the telling."

"I spoke with her this afternoon," Maggie revealed. "It's a healer's ring, and it's never been given to a non-elf before. Usually they help to enhance a healer's spiritual powers, and Galadriel wants to know if I might possess such a gift. I'm pretty doubtful, but I'll give it a shot."

"Aragorn has skill with healing," Frodo said. "And he isn't an elf."

"I am not," Aragorn nodded. "But I am descended from the elves, however distantly."

"And I'm pretty much a muggle," she shook her head. "Er, as non-magical as non-magical gets."

"Enough magic to come here," Boromir said. "So perhaps there is something to the Lady's experiment."

"It's worth a shot, anyway," Maggie shrugged. "I'll do my best. I don't want to let her down."

...

Alone in their tent, Maggie curled up against Boromir in her nightclothes. He put his arms around her, drawing her to his chest.

"I know something is troubling you," he said. "I wish to know what it is, so that I may to something about it."

"It's nothing you can help with," Maggie shook her head. "It's something that either will come to pass or won't. Galadriel says it won't, but I'm not so sure."

"What is this something?"

"The death of a member of the fellowship," she whispered.

"The fellowship will break?" Boromir asked gently.

"Yes," she said. "Frodo and Sam must go to Mordor alone."

"Will preventing this death stop this from happening?"

"I don't think so. But it's hard to say for sure. Which is why I'm confused over what I should do."

"Do you want to tell me who is fated to die?" Boromir ran his hand through her hair, dreading her answer. All of the fellowship members were like brothers to him, and the thought of losing one was unbearable. Even knowing that Gandalf was not dead and would return, he still felt a great sense of loss.

Maggie shook her head. "I can't," she said, her voice cracking. "I don't dare jinx my ability to stop it from happening."

"Everything will work out," he reassured her, rocking her against his chest. Finally, she broke down, and her shoulders shook with quiet sobs. "Shh," he said, rubbing her back. "I promise I will do everything in my power to save him."

She cried for a couple of minutes, then managed to get control over her emotions.

"I'm sorry," she said, sitting up. "I know I'm being silly."

"It is not silly to worry," he said, handing her a handkerchief. She dried her eyes and blew her nose. "And the tears mean you care greatly about this. Do not be afraid to cry in front of me."

"I just hate crying in general," Maggie laughed. "I don't cry all pretty like I imagine Elves do. I get all snotty and red-faced and then I get a headache. I cry ugly."

"Well," Boromir laughed. "I imagine I do too."

"Come on," she shoved his shoulder. "You cry manly tears."

"Manly tears?" he chuckled.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "First there's a bit of sniffling. Then there's like one single tear that trickles down your cheek into your beard. None of this getting snot all over other people business."

"You are a silly girl," he lifted her chin. "And I love you nonetheless." He bent his head to kiss her gently. When he withdrew, he searched her eyes for her reaction. She smiled at him, even though there was still a weight in her eyes. She cupped his cheek.

"I love you, too," she whispered, and kissed him again, pouring all of her passion and grief into him. It nearly overwhelmed him, as he brushed the back of his hands over her arms, raising goose pimples in their path.

"You are so beautiful," he said softly, pulling her nightdress over her head. "Let me touch you." She whimpered in response, and he pressed her onto her back, trailing his hands down her body, feeling the smoothness of her pale skin, almost translucent in the candlelight. She closed her eyes, immersing herself in the feel of her lover's hands, letting the sensations wash over her. He lowered his mouth to her breast, and sucked gently, cupping the flesh as he did. She sighed in pleasure, burying her hands in his hair and tenderly raking her nails across his scalp. He let out a sharp breath through his nose, and released her breast, only to capture her lips in another searing kiss, as he tore at his own clothing, breaking the kiss only long enough to pull his shirt over his head.

Tilting her head back, she savoured this moment, imprinting it in memory for the days that loomed ahead. In the future, she would draw upon this memory for strength, even in the darkest hours.

He pulled her into him, exulting in the feeling of her body, the places she matched him and the places she differed. Her softness yielded to his hardness; her breath came in rapid, eager puffs in his ear; her arms, pliant but surprisingly strong, wound around him, holding him as fiercely as he held her.

They had no yesterdays and no tomorrows: only this one moment in time, this tiny, finite place where they could come together and offer each other everything they had to give.

They joined.

At first it was gentle and sensual, as he savoured the rush of sensation brought upon by each stroke. Soon it gave way to the heat of the fire within him, hungry, insatiable with need, and he found himself driving into her faster, harder. She matched his strokes, mirroring his urgency with her own gasps, her fingernails raking over the tender flesh of his back.

Feeling the crescendo building within him - damn his inexperience - he brought his fingers between her legs and drew them across the tight bundle of nerves there. She arched her back, crying out, and suddenly shuddered violently as she lost control and went careening over the edge. He lost control, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over his body as she milked him of every ounce of satisfaction. She held him tightly, riding the aftershocks of their explosive climax. When she whispered his name, it almost sounded like a prayer.

They drifted from their high into a deep, satisfying sleep.

...

In the darkest hours before dawn, a tall figure moved through the camp, quieter than the breeze through the trees. He gently parted the curtains of the tent on the edge of the encampment, and smiled when he saw the two lovers sleeping peacefully, wrapped in the sheets.

Ducking under the fabric, he stepped inside, and gently shook Maggie's shoulder. She woke and looked up at him blearily. He held a finger to his lips.

"Bring your medicine and tools," he whispered. "You're needed. I'll be outside." She nodded. He slipped out of the tent, and she dressed quickly, leaving her boots unlaced, and tugging her medical bag over her shoulder as she followed him out of the tent.

"You're back," she murmured, falling into step beside him.

"Only just," Haldir replied. "There is a child being born tonight. Usually the Elvish healers have this under control, but from what I understand, this is a particularly difficult birth; twins, in fact. Children are not often born to the elves, and the Lady has sent for you, as she believes you can be of some assistance, with your modern knowledge and tools."

"Well," Maggie said. "I've delivered a couple of tough cases. And if I can deliver a baby in a helicopter, I can certainly deliver one in a tree."

"Do I dare ask what a helicopter is?"

"It's a flying machine, that we use back home to transport emergency cases from afar. Very noisy, very bumpy, and especially, very, very small," she chuckled. "I felt bad for the poor Mum in that case. We had hoped to make it to hospital, but that didn't happen." He started to lead her up the winding staircase into the talans in the trees.

"Oof," she said, as they neared the top. "These stairs are killer." Haldir smirked at her.

"We elves don't seem to have a problem with them," he said smugly.

"Smartass."

She could hear the cries of the woman in labour long before they reached the talan where the healers were rushing around frantically. Haldir stepped inside, and spoke to them. They nodded at him, and beckoned Maggie to enter the room. They spoke to Haldir, who turned to Maggie.

"They want you to take charge here," he said. "Galadriel apparently has great faith in your abilities."

"Well, let's hope she isn't wrong," Maggie said, looking around the room.

Reclined on a bed, her hands resting on her large belly, and her face contorted in pain, was a beautiful golden-haired elf. Even for a woman in labour, she was beautiful - a little red in the face, but free of the trails of sweat that accompanied human births. A sheet was draped over her lower section.

"Are there any differences of anatomy I should know about?" Maggie asked Haldir, who shook his head. A man stood at the head of the bed, looking worried. "Is that the father?" Haldir spoke to him to confirm, and nodded at her. "Okay, Haldir, I want you at the head of the bed, too. I don't know if you've ever seen a live birth, but they're a bit scary. What is her name?"

Haldir spoke in hushed tones to the father.

"Ellavorn," he told her. She walked up to the woman and knelt beside the bed, taking her hand.

"Ellavorn," she said softly. The elf-woman looked up at her in a mixture of panic and wonder. "I'm here to help you, honey. Everything will be all right. I just need you to listen to what I tell you to do, and we'll have a couple of babies out in no time." Her soothing tones seemed to quiet the woman, and she calmed more when Haldir translated for her.

"How long has she been in labour?" Maggie asked.

"Since yesterday morning," Haldir said. "Longer than a day."

"That's a long time. I don't like the sound of that," she said. "I need a lot of hot water. Boiling hot."

"The Elvish healers are already working on that," Haldir said, looking over Maggie's shoulder.

"Good," Maggie nodded. "Can you get them to bring me a basin filled with boiling water? I want to sterilize any instruments I might need to use, just in case."

Haldir spoke to the healers, and one of them brought a bowl over to the table by the bed. Maggie pulled out some sterilizing solution and added it to the steaming water. She dropped the instruments into the basin, and headed to get more water to scrub up. Once her hands were thoroughly cleaned, she snapped on a pair of green latex gloves from her kit, and plucked the instruments out of the bowl, lining them up on a clean towel, and getting out her sphygmomanometer and stethoscope, winding the latter around her neck.

"All right," she said. "I'm going to check how far along she is." Haldir murmured to the woman, who nodded her consent. Maggie lifted the sheet to her knees, and parted them, pushing her fingers gently inside the woman, murmuring soothing sounds as she did so. "She's barely dilated," she told Haldir. "I'm going to take her vital signs - her blood pressure and check her heart rate. Tell her that this will squeeze a bit, but it won't hurt." After Haldir translated, she strapped the meter around the woman's arm, and squeezed the bulb. She grimaced at the reading.

"Is something wrong?" Haldir asked.

"Her blood pressure is a bit too high for my comfort," she said. "It means she might be at risk of haemorrhaging. Do the healers have a sample of her urine?"

Haldir made a face at her, but asked anyway. The healers, somewhat concerned, led her over to a chamber pot. Maggie took a test strip from her kit, and dipped it in the urine, setting it aside.

"The healers want to know what you're doing," Haldir said.

"Well, this is a urine test strip," she explained. "We can tell quite a few things from the reaction to various chemicals - substances painted on the strip. We can tell if a woman is pregnant because certain hormones show up in their urine. Right now I'm looking for protein in the urine, because that is a sign of a dangerous condition called eclampsia. She doesn't have swollen feet, but I want to be sure." She held the strip up to the vial, checking the colours against the chart. "Everything looks good here." She pulled off her gloves, washed her hands again, and snapped on a new pair. The woman was panting from the strain now, and her husband sat beside her, stroking her head and soothing her with Elvish words as she moaned in pain and cried out at the contractions.

Maggie pulled a needle and a vial out of her bag. Haldir looked alarmed.

"This is a drug called Pitocin," she said. "It's produced naturally in the body when a woman gives birth, but an extra dose of it can help to induce labour. I don't like to use it if I don't have to, but I think it's necessary in this case. I'm going to need to inject it into her vein, which will pinch a bit." Haldir translated for her, as Maggie tugged a tourniquet out of her bag, along with alcohol swabs, a bit of gauze, and her tape. "They call it the love hormone. It makes women bond with their babies, and simulates lactation and things like that." She prepared her dose, and tied the tourniquet around the woman's bicep, gently pressing on her arm to find a vein. Satisfied, she knelt next to the woman. "Deep breath," she said, and Haldir translated quickly, and Maggie slid the needle in. She drew back the plunger, and, seeing the telltale trickle of blood, injected the drug. She untied the tourniquet with one hand, and quickly pulled the needle out, staunching the flow of blood with a bit of gauze. She taped the injection site, and capped the needle for disposal.

They waited for what felt like forever. Maggie checked her vitals a few more times, and then asked Haldir to help her move the woman to the edge of the bed, pulling two chairs up for her to perch her feet on. Her husband got behind her, holding her between his knees and soothing her.

"This is a much better position to give birth in," Maggie said. "Gravity works in our favour, lying down, not so much."

Maggie knelt between the woman's knees, and asked Haldir to tell the healers to hold the mother's legs. She clicked on her flashlight and took a good look, and slid her fingers in to check.

"It won't be too long yet," she said. "She's fully dilated. We'll have a baby soon!"

She gave a few more instructions, Haldir translating as they went. The two healers rushed around, bringing more warm towels and hot water. The father bathed his wife's forehead with a cloth. Maggie shone her light again.

"I can see the head," she said. "Okay, I need her to give a good hard push."

Within moments, with Haldir instructing the woman, and the healers encouraging her, a baby girl was born. Maggie wrapped her in a towel and, clamping and cutting the umbilical cord, handed her off to one of the healers. Soon, a cry was sounding through the room.

"I like that sound," Maggie said. "But it's not over yet, honey." She shone her flashlight between the woman's legs again, and furrowed her brow. She took her stethoscope and put the ends in her ears, and started to slide it over the woman's abdomen.

"What's the matter?" Haldir asked worriedly. The woman spoke to him in Elvish.

"I think the second baby might be breech," Maggie informed him. Haldir spoke rapidly to the healers, and one came immediately to her assistance.

"Usually, in my world, if there's a breech birth, we'd perform what's called a caesarean section - cut into the uterus and deliver the babies through the abdomen. I have neither the skill nor would I risk the possibility of infection unless I had no other choice. I need warm blankets. When the baby comes down, we have to make sure to keep her warm, because if she feels the cold air, she'll breathe inside the womb, and she could drown in the fluid within."

The Elvish healer nodded in assent, and spoke to Haldir.

"She's delivered a breech baby before," Haldir told Maggie. "Though it has been several hundred years."

"Well, she's one up on me," said Maggie. "I've been trained for it, but I've never done it in person. Like I said, for the most part they perform surgery for cases like this. It'd only be an absolute emergency that was too far out of hospital that we wouldn't. I'll defer to her. Please tell her that."

Maggie switched positions with the Elvish healer, and handed her a pair of latex gloves. The elf looked at her quizzically, but once she explained through Haldir that they would prevent the risk of infection, the elf pulled them on without question. Maggie knelt beside her, and together they delivered the second baby - this time, a boy.

Tears streamed down the mother's face, and the father looked both proud and frazzled. Soon, they delivered both placenta, which seemed to terrify Haldir, who looked a little green around the gills. Maggie inspected them for tears. Happy to see that there was nothing to be concerned with there, she checked for haemorrhaging, and was pleased to find that everything seemed normal. She and the healers helped her husband move her back to recline on the bed, where, after Maggie checked their heartbeats and their lungs, the healers brought her babies to her, where the healers put the babies to the mother's breast.

Maggie washed her hands, and nodded at the two healers, who thanked her in Elvish.

"You probably could have managed this without me," she said. "But I'm glad I could be here anyway. I'll come back tomorrow to check on Mum and the babes, but I think everything is well under control."

Haldir smiled at her, and she shook hands with the two Elvish healers. The father came over to her shyly, thanking her profusely. Maggie pulled him into a comforting hug, much to his surprise, and she patted him on the back.

"Bit scary, isn't it?" she smiled at him. Haldir translated, and the elf nodded, giving her a smile. "I'll be back tomorrow. You take care of her, now."

She packed up her tools, after disinfecting those she had used, and she and Haldir bid farewell to the tired healers. Maggie yawned widely on the way back down the stairs.

"It seems to me that babies like to be born in the middle of the night," Maggie chuckled.

"I haven't had enough experience to tell," he said. "Though it's close to dawn now."

"True. I was born at around two in the morning," Maggie said. "Apparently I had a big head. My grandmother used to tease me about that."

"Not much has changed," Haldir laughed. Maggie swatted his shoulder.

"She used to say that too," Maggie made a face at him.

"Well, you've had your first experience with the healers. Did you feel any kind of spiritual connection?"

"I'm not sure," Maggie said. "Birth is such a spiritual thing to begin with - so very primal and natural. Women have been doing it since time immemorial, and they'll continue to do it until the end of the world."

"It is one of the fascinating things about life," Haldir assented. "The miracle of creation."

"Not to mention how much fun it is," she smirked slyly.

"Have you and Boromir married, then?" he asked.

"Nope," she replied. He raised an eyebrow. "I know that elves mate for life and all that, but humans don't necessarily work that way. Besides, would you buy a pair of boots before trying them on, if you planned to wear them for the rest of your life?"

Haldir let out a hearty laugh. "You are too much, Maggie."

"I think I'm just enough."

...

A/N: Hope you liked it. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. I hope I continue to meet your expectations. You all make it worth it, seriously.

I might write another chapter tonight (or part of one). Expect something by Wednesday or so. My sleep schedule is all out of whack, so I might be up into the wee hours again.

Song from last chapter: Too Little Too Late by Barenaked Ladies.


	12. Leave you here, for my journey begins

A/N: Wrote this out last night. A banquet, a last night in Lothlorien, gift-giving, and a Queen song.

Borrowed some material from a Harry Potter fanfic that has long been abandoned, called Jewel of the Nile.

...

Chapter Twelve - I'll leave you here, for my journey begins

...

Boromir woke the next morning and looked down at Maggie, who had dark circles under her eyes and was, to his puzzlement, wearing her tank top and underpants. He shook her gently. She let out a grumbling sound, and burrowed deeper into the bed.

"Maggie," he shook her again.

"Mm?" she cracked open one eye.

"Did you go somewhere last night?"

"Ahuh," she nodded. "Delivered babies. Haldir came to get me. Lemme sleep."

"Very well," he said, looking at her incredulously. He dressed quietly and swiftly, and went to the centre of the camp.

The hobbits were already there, tucking into a breakfast of eggs and fruit. Legolas was also there, eating berries with a birdlike grace. Boromir sat down across from them.

"Where's Maggie?" Pippin asked, around a mouthful of eggs.

"Apparently she delivered a baby last night," Boromir said.

"You must sleep like the dead," Legolas shook his head. "If she can sneak in and out of bed without waking you." Boromir chuckled in response.

"I decided to let her rest," he said. "She looks like she's been put through her paces. She said Haldir came to get her in the middle of the night."

"So he's back, then," Legolas said. "Perhaps I will see him later."

"Or now," said Merry, pointing behind him. Legolas looked over his shoulder at the approaching elf. Legolas greeted him in Elvish, and the two tossed a couple of sentences back and forth, before Haldir joined them at the table.

"You don't look nearly as tired as Maggie," Boromir pointed out.

"Elves don't tire as easily as humans," Haldir said. "Besides, my role was largely to stand around and translate. She was the one doing the most work, besides the mother, of course. And she delivered healthy twins."

"Twins?" Legolas smiled. "That is good news. The parents must be ecstatic." Haldir nodded.

"How quickly do Elvish children grow, anyway?" asked Frodo. "I don't think I've ever even seen an Elvish child."

"They aren't born very often," Legolas told him. "They grow slower, but the development of the mind is faster. They usually speak before they reach one year, and they can also walk and dance by the end of their first year as well. An elf will still appear to be a child at the age of twenty, an adolescent at fifty, and by the time they reach one hundred years of age, they'll be at their full maturity."

"Hobbits come of age at thirty-three," Merry said, nodding, as Maggie came up to the group, looking haggard.

"I thought you were going to sleep," Boromir said. "You look exhausted." She yawned.

"I was," she confirmed. "But my stomach said otherwise. Besides, I should check on mama. I'll catch a catnap later."

"We were talking about the differences between Elves and other races," Sam filled her in. "Did you know Elves only reach adulthood at a hundred years old?"

"No," Maggie smiled. "By a hundred, most humans are dead."

"Hobbits usually live to be about a hundred, though the Old Took was one hundred and thirty," Pippin said.

"People are considered to be adults at around the age of eighteen back home," Maggie said. "The age differs depending on the particular thing. You can drink and smoke legally at the age of eighteen - though that doesn't stop most people from doing it younger than that. You can join the army at seventeen with parental consent, eighteen otherwise. You can vote at eighteen, too. In the neighbouring country, you can vote and smoke at eighteen, and join the army, but you can't have a drink until you're twenty-one."

"That seems a bit silly," Merry said. "You can go out and get yourself killed, but you can't enjoy a beer?"

"I always thought it was a bit weird," she replied. "Anyway, I'm going to grab an apple and go check on our new mother."

She turned to the two elves. "Either of you wanna come with me? I can't really communicate with her."

Legolas jumped up. "I would like the chance to see these twins. It has been a while since I've seen a babe in arms."

The two headed off, up the winding staircase.

...

Maggie knocked on the door gently. An elf she hadn't met before answered, and through Legolas, she learned that this was the sister of Ellavorn, who had come to help her out. Maggie explained who she was, and the elf nodded at her and smiled gratefully, before pulling the door open to admit them.

Ellavorn was awake. Her husband was not there, but one of the babies was nestled against her breast, suckling. The other was swaddled and lying in a nearby cradle, sleeping peacefully.

"All is well, then?" Maggie asked. Legolas translated, smiling down and congratulating the new mother. They spoke back and forth for a few moments, and then Ellavorn let out a squeal of surprise. Maggie raised her eyebrow.

"I just told her who I am," Legolas said. "She was not expecting a visit from a Prince of Mirkwood."

Maggie chuckled as Ellavorn chattered at her sister, who seemed very taken with Legolas, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Can I check the babies?" Maggie asked, walking over to the cradle. Legolas translated, and Ellavorn assented. Maggie lifted up the baby in the cradle, who by weight, she determined to be the boy, as he had been quite a bit larger. She carried him over to Legolas. "Here, why don't you hold him while I check him?"

"May I?" Legolas breathed. She handed him the baby, showing him how to support the baby's head, and stripped off the swaddling, pressing her stethoscope to his chest. Legolas looked down at the tiny face in wonder, the pale eyelashes fluttering against the round, pink cheeks. He stroked the baby's head gently.

"Everything seems good here," she said, as the boy awoke and began to wail. Legolas looked around frantically.

"What did I do?" he asked.

"Probably nothing," she replied. "The stethoscope is a bit cold. And he's probably hungry."

Ellavorn reached out her arms for her son, while her sister took her daughter and handed her to Maggie. Maggie draped a towel over her shoulder and burped the baby, who spit up a little bit. She wiped her face, and then handed her to Legolas as she checked her as well.

"Everything looks good," she said. Legolas told the mother this, and she smiled happily. "I'll check on Mama, too, if she doesn't mind." The elf nodded assent. "Legolas, turn your back, I need to check her for bleeding." Legolas translated, then turned around as Maggie pulled on gloves and lifted the sheet, checking the wadding between the woman's legs. "Good, good," she said. She checked her blood pressure as well, her heart rate and breathing, and pulled out a thermometer. "You can turn back around, Legolas. I need you to tell her to put this under her tongue, and to not talk. It's to check her temperature."

After a moment, she withdrew the thermometer and checked it.

"Everything's good. Fever is a sign of infection, which would be bad, but it looks like everything is in excellent shape. She's a tough lady."

"I'm glad to hear it," Legolas said, distracted as the little girl in his arms let out a sneeze. Maggie laughed.

"I think we should leave Mama to rest, if you'll give her back her baby," Maggie chuckled. Ellavorn's sister took the little girl with a smile as Legolas spoke to her. "Come, we can come visit again."

...

Over the next few days, Maggie spent a lot of time with the two healers she had met during the birth. Haldir accompanied her, and they spent time studying and exchanging techniques through Haldir, who seemed horrified at the concept of bacteria and viruses. Maggie went to check on Ellavorn every few days, and Legolas usually tagged along. He seemed to get along quite well with Ellavorn's sister, whose name was Merenil, something which Maggie teased him about relentlessly.

"Legolas and Merenil sitting in a tree," she sang at him, on their way back down from one of their visits. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in the baby carriage!"

He wrinkled his nose at her. "I barely know the girl," he said. "Besides, I'm not nearly ready to settle down and get married."

"Oh no," she said, mockingly. "I don't want to get married. I want to stay single, and let my hair flow in the wind, as I ride through the glen, firing arrows into the sunset!"

Legolas laughed and gave her a gentle shove.

"Well, when are you planning to get married?" he smirked at her.

"When I'm not likely to get shot dead by orcs sometime in the next week," she replied snarkily. He laughed again, shaking his head.

...

Their time in Lothlorien was rapidly drawing to a close. To Maggie's dismay, she hadn't been able to harness any power from the Healer's Ring, though she had tried. Galadriel had reassured her that she had earned it nonetheless, and even tried to raise her rank, but Maggie would have none of it. So instead, she had brought dressmakers to meet with Maggie, as Galadriel planned a banquet on the night before the fellowship was to leave, a last hurrah of sorts, and she instructed her to design something that was from her own world.

"Are you sure?" Maggie said. "I could just wear the same dress I wore last time."

"Nonsense," the blonde elf waved her hand, as the dressmakers measured Maggie. "Now, what do you want to do?"

"Hmm," said Maggie. "Maybe something Grecian. Do you have paper?"

Galadriel handed her a sheet of parchment and Maggie pulled a ballpoint pen out of her pocket. She did a little sketch of an empire-waisted gown, with a cape that draped down from the shoulders. The dressmakers looked at it in curiosity, and Galadriel smiled.

"I think we can do something with this," she said. "Are you certain you do not want sleeves?"

"Not a huge fan of sleeves," Maggie replied. "My arms are one of my better assets."

"We should put jeweled clasps at the shoulders," Galadriel said, circling it with her finger and repeating it in Elvish. "And you will borrow a tiara from me."

"A tiara?" Maggie looked at her in astonishment. "I've never worn one of those before."

"You are an honoured guest," she said. "And I've been trying to put a crown on Aragorn's head for the past forty years to no avail. So please, indulge me."

Maggie laughed. "You know, there's a song I ought to teach you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It's Aragorn's favourite. He loves it when you hum the tune at him."

"Well, then, teach it to me, while they finish their measurements."

...

The night of the banquet came rapidly. Maggie spent all of her last week sequestered with the healers and Haldir, trying to learn as much as she could. There was little other than minor injuries to practice on, however.

Maggie took a bath, and let the Elves dress her hair. It was longer than it had been in years, covering her ears. They wound the back into a small bun and pinned it with the two silver combs they had given her, and braided along above her ears. Galadriel had selected a tiara that wound over her forehead with tiny flowers and vines, the flowers worked in sapphires and diamonds. She had to admit that it looked lovely. Galadriel had also sent a simple sapphire drop pendant, which settled between her breasts quite prettily.

The dressmakers had brought her the completed gown the day before, and after some minor adjustments, it had been ready. She'd hidden it from Boromir in Gimli's tent, and now the bathing attendants helped her into it. The cream white material draped elegantly over her tall frame, and silver clasps settled at her shoulders. The cape draped down her back and trailed behind her as a train, and she could also pick it up and loop it over her arm. Inwel squealed in delight, fingering the gown, and chattered happily in Elvish.

"I wonder if this'll be the new Elvish style," Maggie chuckled to herself. "The medieval look is pretty, but variety is the spice of life."

She slipped on a pair soft white slippers, made of buckskin and moulded to fit her feet perfectly. She headed out the door, and made her way to the talan on high where dinner would be held.

...

Boromir's breath caught in his throat as Maggie entered the room. She was a vision in a cream-coloured gown, which made her pale skin glow ethereally. Her reddish-brown hair was wound up, and a tiara sparkled on her forehead. She looked every inch a lady.

He crossed the room to her. She looked up. He was dressed in his own wine and gold tunic, without the chainmail or leather overcoat. Instead, he wore a black shirt beneath, and dark leggings tucked into black leather boots. His horn hung from his belt, and he had bracers on his wrists. His beard was trimmed, his hair tidy. He smiled at her.

"You look like a queen," he whispered to her, as he leaned in to kiss her gently. "You put some of these elves to shame."

"I wouldn't go that far," Maggie laughed. "But I haven't really ever felt this... girly."

"You have always been beautiful, Maggie," he said. "Whether you're dressed in your strange clothing from your world, or an Elven dress."

"Thank you," she blushed. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

"I need to represent my country with honour," he said. "It would hardly do for the son of the Steward to show up at a banquet looking like a Ranger who has been in the woods for months."

"I see Aragorn let the elves tidy him up a bit, too," she grinned. The other man was wearing a deep blue Elven tunic, and looked quite regal. He smiled at her from across the room, and nodded in acknowledgement.

She looked around for the others. The hobbits were dressed in their usual breeches and shirts, though they all had new waistcoats in different colours of brocade. Gimli was dressed in a brown robe, that reached almost to the tops of his boots. His hair and beard were both braided intricately, and he wore a leather coat on top of his tunic. Legolas was dressed in another silver tunic with a black undershirt, looking pretty similar to the other male elves, save Celeborn, who wore long robes with a jeweled collar.

To Legolas' surprise, Merenil was in attendance. She was dressed in a gown of midnight blue, and she smiled at him. He saw Maggie elbow Boromir and whisper something to him, and he laughed in response. He made a mental note to pester her later, as he made his way across the room to talk to Merenil.

Soon after, they all sat down to a great feast. With the sweet cakes that appeared for dessert, miruvor was poured, and Maggie had her first taste of the potent drink. It reminded her of ice cider, and she sipped it happily as some elves began to set up instruments to play music.

Celeborn stood from the table, and reached his hand out for his wife, who smiled up at him lovingly, and allowed herself to be led out onto the dance floor. The other elves soon joined, and performed some form of court dance. Boromir turned to Maggie.

"Would you care to dance?"

"I don't know how to dance like that," she said. "I'd just make a fool of myself."

"My knowledge of Elvish dances is not great myself," he admitted. "They are similar to the dances from home, but not exactly the same. Come, why don't we go out onto the balcony for some air."

Maggie followed him through an open set of doors, out onto a large balcony that looked out over the Elvish city, which sparkled with white lights, mirroring the stars above. They could still hear the music, albeit far quieter.

"This is our last night here," Maggie said, leaning on the railing.

"We shall have to make the most of it," Boromir smiled at her. "We might not have the chance to be together on the road."

The song changed, and Maggie noticed that it was being played in the time of a waltz.

"Here," she said, taking his hand. "I'll teach you a dance from my world."

She took his hand and placed it on her waist, and took his other hand in her own, entwining the fingers of his other hand with hers.

"Keep your shoulders up," she said. "It's to the count of six." She showed him how to lead, stepping forward where she stepped back, and they did a simple waltz in place, before she showed him how to spin her out and back to him. She smiled.

"You're getting the hang of it," she said. "I'm not much of a dancer, really. Here, let's try turning."

They waltzed around the balcony, as Maggie counted out the beat.

The song ended, and another one began, this one slower, almost a lament.

"This is the way most people dance," she smiled at him, and moved closer, leaning her head on his shoulder. The miruvor made her feel warm and giddy, and happier than she could ever remember feeling. As they moved in a gentle circle in place, she reached up to kiss him.

From the doorway, Galadriel smiled to herself.

...

After the party was over, Boromir and Maggie returned to their tent. She smiled at him shyly.

"Last night, huh," she said.

"Last night."

"We'd better make it count."

Boromir reached his hands up to the clasps at the shoulders of her gown, and released them, sliding the straps from her shoulders. The gown slipped over her skin, and pooled at her feet. She wore nothing underneath. He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes, before crushing her to him.

As they kissed, Maggie undid the clasps down the front of his tunic, slipping it from his shoulders. She released him to tug his shirt over his head, and pressed herself against his chest. His arms came around her, and he tugged her down onto the bed, pulling off his boots and trousers as they went.

He brushed his mouth against hers. Maggie felt his hand slide deftly between their bodies - down, down and then circle around her centre in a way that made her yelp and arch against him as her legs slid apart on the damp sheets. The miruvor made her head spin deliciously, and every inch of her skin itch for his touch. He knelt between her legs, slipping himself into her just barely.

He rocked against her, just enough to be maddening, as his fingers worked on her with an amount of skill she hadn't known he'd possessed.

"You're so wet," he moaned. "That's right, my love. Nice and slow, now." This last, he said against her mouth, as he bent to kiss her.

She arched her hips into him, but he placed a hand on her to still her, and shushed her protests. He treated her as if she were a piece of glass, easily broken, instead of a flesh and blood woman who was fired with unquenchable desire.

"Please," she begged. "I need you."

"I know," he said, sliding in a little further. "I know."

He worked at her, ignoring the persistent throb of his own desire, as he watched her gasp and catch her bottom lip between her teeth in that way that made his cock twitch to know that he had invoked that reaction. She was panting now, and he slid all the way into her, buried to the hilt, his fingers still deftly circling the fiery bundle of nerves where their bodies met.

"Oh god," she moaned. "Don't stop. Don't you dare. Don't ever stop."

Heat to heat, hard to soft, push to pull. He rocked against her body, still kissing her like he'd never come up for air.

"Yes," she said into his mouth. "Oh god, yes." The sensations shot from cervix to brain stem, as she was trapped between his cock and his fingers in such a delicious way that she both instantly and never wanted to end. One of his hands was riding the swell of her hip, the other still involved with a procedure she would henceforth think of as That Thing With His Thumb. She swayed on the edge of the precipice, before her body seized, her skin feeling as if it were on fire, the volcanic pulse of her orgasm ripping her apart.

She wanted to crawl inside him.

He stayed with her, watching her writhe beneath him, somehow, he wasn't sure precisely how, managing to keep his control despite the gentle throb of her body around him. He slipped his hand over her sweat soaked body, teasing her through the aftershocks. She looked up at him dizzily.

"Are you all right?" he asked, as she closed her eyes against the heady sensation.

"I think you broke me," she said. "And I mean that in the best way possible."

He bent to kiss her again, slipping his hands over her slick body, and when she moaned into his mouth, he began to rock his hips again, ever so gently. She leaned up, kissing and sucking on his collarbone, smiling with satisfaction as she raised a strawberry birthmark on his skin, and he hissed in a combination of pleasure and pain, driving into her. She put her hands up on his shoulders to stop him, and whispered to him to flip over onto his back.

She grasped his cock, feeling it twitch, hot iron in a velvet slipcover. She straddled him, and sank down onto him, as his fingers dug into her hips, and he let out a strangled gasp as she circled her hips, sighing happily.

"I don't think I'm going to last," he rasped from beneath her. She leaned forward to kiss him, catching his bottom lip between her teeth - perhaps a little harder than necessary - and smiled at his hiss of pain.

"Don't worry," she said throatily. "I think I'm catching up to you anyway."

She rode him, grinding her already enflamed clit into the base of his cock, the short hairs there rasping against her skin. She let out a gasp as he grasped her butt with both hands, and bucked upwards to meet her. His head was thrown back in ecstacy, and hearing the primal noises tearing from his throat sent her careening towards the edge faster than she could have imagined.

She felt him harden within her, and he twisted his head to the side, biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood in order to keep from crying out loud enough to wake the entire camp. He pulsed, once, twice, and on the third she joined him, electricity crackling up her spinal column and exploding lightning behind her eyes as they wove a web of sensation around each other that seemed endless.

They both climbed down from the peak, panting, slick with each other's sweat. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and she reached down to brush it out of his face, admiring the flush spread across his cheeks.

"Sex becomes you," she said huskily.

"I could say the same for you," he replied, as she slipped off of him and joined him on the bed, curling against him, feeling her heart rate return to normal. "I never knew this could feel so... so good."

"And it gets even better with practice," she smirked at him.

"Does that mean we get to practice a lot?" he asked hopefully.

"I hope so," she replied. "Speaking of, where on earth did you pick up that little trick with your thumb, mister 'I'm not that experienced'?"

"I'm a fast learner?" he smiled at her. "I tried it, you seemed to like it. Common sense dictates that I should repeat it."

"Thank god for common sense."

...

The next afternoon, the fellowship gathered on the shores of the river. The elves had prepared provisions for them to take on the road.

As they stood on the shore, elves fastened cloaks around their necks, with a brooch wrought in the shape of a leaf.

"May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes," Celeborn said, as he stepped off of the swan-shaped barge that carried him and Galadriel to the shore. The Lord and Lady of the Wood began distributing gifts.

"My gift for you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim, worthy of the skill of our woodland kin," Galadriel said. Legolas stretched the bowstring, looking at it in awe. Galadriel smiled, and turned to Merry and Pippin.

"These are the daggers of the Noldorin," she said, handing over two sheathed knives. "They have already seen service in war. Do not fear, young Peregrin Took. You will find your courage." She turned next to Sam.

"And for you, Samwise Gamgee: Elven rope, made of hithlain," she said, handing it to him.

"Thank you, my lady," Sam said, nodding at her. He looked at Merry and Pippin, and glanced back up at Galadriel. "Have you run out of those nice, shiny daggers?" Galadriel smiled. She turned next to Boromir.

"I know you shall take good care of our Maggie," Galadriel said, smiling at him. She handed him a leather belt, wrought with a golden pattern, with a sheath for his knife. She also slipped him a small bag, putting her finger to her lips, as Maggie watched the elves loading the boats.

"Maggie," she said. Maggie hugged the tall Elven lady, to her surprise. Haldir stepped forward, and handed her a small crossbow. Maggie examined it, smiling, and finding to her pleasure that the limbs folded against the barrel for portability. He also gave her a box of crossbow bolts. Maggie grinned at him.

"I'll miss you," she said, throwing her arms around his neck and, to his astonishment, kissing him on the cheek. When she pulled back, he put his hand to his cheek, looking at Maggie in wonder.

Galadriel, watching this exchange with amusement, turned next to Gimli, who averted his eyes downward.

"And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?" Galadriel asked him.

"Nothing," Gimli grunted. He paused for a moment, and looked up at her. "Except to look upon the Lady of the Galadhrim one last time, for she is more fair than all the jewels beneath the earth." Galadriel giggled and smiled at him. He turned to walk away, and then stopped, turning back to her.

"Actually, there was one thing - ah, agh, that's quite impossible," he waved his hands dismissively. "Stupid to ask."

"If it is within my power to give," Galadriel said.

"I would like a strand of your hair," he admitted. "As a token of good faith within our races."

Galadriel smiled, and gave him three. Galadriel moved to Aragorn. She placed her hand on her granddaughter's pendant.

"I have nothing greater to give, than the gift you already bear," she said. "Am meleth dîn. I ant e-guil Arwen Undómiel…pelitha." Aragorn looks at her mournfully.

"Aníron i e broniatha ar periatham amar hen. Aníron e ciratha a Valannor," Aragorn said.

"That choice is yet before her," Galadriel nodded. "You have your own choice to make, Aragorn; to rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness, with all that is left of your kin."

They stood silently, sharing a secret look between them.

"Namárië," Galadriel said. "Nadath nâ i moe cerich. Dan…ú-'eveditham, Elessar."

At last, she stood before Frodo, who looked up at her tentatively. She handed him a crystal phial, filled with a clear fluid, the sunlight catching it and sparkling.

"Farewell, Frodo Baggins. I give you the light of Earendil, our most beloved star."

With that, she stepped aside, to allow them to enter the boats.

Legolas started loading packs into the boat. One of them gapped open, and Legolas pulled out a leaf-wrapped wafer.

"Lembas!" he said excitedly. "Elvish Way-bread. One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man." He walked off, leaving the Hobbits standing by the boat.

"How many did you eat?" Merry asked.

"Four," Pippin burped.

Maggie snickered, clapped Pippin on the shoulder, and swung her pack into a boat.

"Every league you travel south, the danger will increase," Celeborn told them. "Mordor Orcs now hold the eastern shore of the Anduin." They climbed into the boats. Legolas helped Gimli into a boat, and Frodo and Sam stepped into another. Maggie climbed in one, Boromir behind her, with Pippin sitting between her knees. Merry sat in front of him.

Aragorn and Celeborn wandered off through the mists, deep in conversation.

"Nor will you find safety on the western bank. Strange creatures bearing the mark of the White Hand have been seen on our borders," he said urgently. "Seldom do orcs journey in the open, under the sun, yet these have done so!" He paused, and handed a dagger to Aragorn, who unsheathed it, the blade glinting in the sun.

"Le aphadar aen," the elf murmured in warning. Aragorn sheathed the dagger in response.

"By river you have the chance of outrunning the enemy to the Falls of Rauros," he told Aragorn, as he swung himself into the boat behind Frodo and Sam. He took up a paddle, and Haldir untied the boats, giving each a nudge with his boot.

The Fellowship rowed through the river, past the Elves onshore. Elven voices sang from deep within the woods, and Maggie looked out over her last glimpse of Lothlorien in wonder.

She waved at the elves on shore, as Boromir splashed the paddle in the water. Galadriel lifted a hand in farewell. Haldir smiled at her.

They set off down the river.

...

They moved downstream. Maggie tried to take the paddle from Boromir to give him a rest, but he tutted at her.

"You know," Maggie said. "I have paddled a boat before."

"I'm fine," he replied, steering them into the current.

The hours passed, Merry and Pippin bickering in front of them, to Maggie's amusement. Dusk fell, and from the front of the row of boats, Aragorn waved them off to the bank of the river.

They pulled the boats into the shallows, and Boromir drove some stakes into the ground to tie them to. Aragorn and Maggie set about building a fire, and Legolas and Gimli unpacked what they would need for the night.

They sat around the fire, as Sam prepared a meal for them. After they ate, Pippin scooted over next to where Maggie was sitting on a log, and looked at her hopefully.

"Will you teach us one of those 'rock' songs you mentioned at the banquet?" he asked hopefully, batting his eyelashes at her. Maggie laughed, and put her arm around him.

"As insane as it sounds, now that I won't be terrifying the Elvish nobility, sure," she replied. "I'll need everyone's help, though, to do this properly."

"What do we need to do?" Merry asked.

"Okay," she said. "I need everyone to stamp their feet, once, twice, and then clap their hands." She demonstrated. "And everyone, when I point, are going to sing this: 'We will, we will rock you'."

She walked them through it a few times, and, smiling as everyone got into it, even Legolas, stamped her feet, clapped her hands, and began the song.

"Buddy you're a boy make a big noise

Playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day

You got mud on your face

You big disgrace

Kickin' your can all over the place

Singin'"

She pointed both her hands at everyone, and, stamping her feet, sang:

"We will we will rock you

We will we will rock you

Buddy you're a young man hard man

Shoutin' in the street gonna take on the world some day

You got blood on your face

You big disgrace

Wavin' your banner all over the place

We will we will rock you

Singin'

We will we will rock you

Buddy you're an old man poor man

Pleadin' with your eyes gonna make you some peace some day

You got mud on your face

You big disgrace

Somebody better put you back into your place

We will we will rock you

Singin'

We will we will rock you

Everybody

We will we will rock you

We will we will rock you

Alright!"

She stopped, laughing, as everyone clapped their hands, and Pippin cheered.

"I think that's my new favourite," he said, clapping her on the back.

"How wild!" Frodo said, laughing. Maggie chuckled, sliding down to the ground and leaning on the log.

"I can see why they call it rock music," Legolas said. "With enough people, you could shake the earth doing that."

...

A/N: Last chapter's song was guessed by Anna The Lynx: 'Wherever you will go' by The Calling.


	13. And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end

...

A/N: Goddamnit. I was halfway through writing this chapter when my netbook totally crapped out on me. It has a wonky hard drive, which I can usually fix - except one of the screws is stripped and I can't get it out, so mow it's lying in pieces on my desk. My desktop PC's video card needs to be replaced, so I'm presently without an actual computer.

So now I'm rewriting it. On my iPad. Perched on a cereal box on my lap. That's how much I love you guys.

I only wrote three scenes, and they were pretty fresh in my mind, so I recreated it without too much trouble.

Next week, I'm going away to visit a friend of mine a couple of hours away. She's pregnant and sick all the time, so we're going to lie around like a couple of invalids and watch crappy daytime TV. I will only have iPad access there - I'm hoping to have two chapters in the tank before I leave to upload while I'm there, because I dunno how much time I'll have to write there.

...

Chapter 13 - And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end

...

Boromir was awakened by Legolas to take third watch. He sat on a rock on the river's edge, as everyone settled in for the night. By the dim light of the fire in the distance, he pulled out the bag Galadriel had given him. He didn't want to open it just yet, so he twirled it in his fingers before putting it back in his pocket. He leaned back on the rock, put his hands behind his head, and looked up at the stars, lost in thought.

...

Aragorn was the next up for watch. Boromir woke him quietly, and followed him to the rock on the river's edge.

"Minas Tirith is the safer road," Boromir said, once they were away from the camp. "You know it. From there we can regroup, strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."

"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," Aragorn told him.

"You were quick enough to trust the elves!" Boromir said angrily, throwing his arms out. "Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honour to be found in Men. But you will not see that." He crossed his arms, glaring at Aragorn. "You are afraid. All your life, you have hidden in the shadows!" Aragorn went to turn away, but Boromir grabbed his arm. "Scared of who you are. Of what you are."

"I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city," Aragorn spat in response, before turning and stalking to the edge of the water.

Boromir returned to the camp, curling himself around Maggie.

From the edge of the camp, Frodo huddled closer into his cloak, worriedly mulling over the exchange he had just heard.

...

Not long before dawn broke, Aragorn crept back into the camp, and gently shook Maggie's shoulder. She looked up at him blearily, before slipping out of Boromir's arms. Luckily, the man slept like the dead.

"I need to speak with you," Aragorn said quietly. "Alone."

She followed him into the woods a short way, close enough to still see what was going on around the camp. The first glimmer of dawn was breaking on the horizon.

"What's wrong?" she asked, seeing his worried expression.

"I argued with Boromir last night," Aragorn said, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "He still wants to take the Ring to Minas Tirith. I fear he is beginning to obsess over it."

"That Ring has an effect on us all," Maggie said. "None more so than Frodo. The creature Gollum, who has been following us, was once a hobbit." Aragorn raised an eyebrow at her. "Gandalf spoke of it in Moria. He spent years alone with nothing but the whispers of the Ring to keep him company. It poisoned him. It consumes him. That's why he still seeks it."

"I am afraid he will tell the enemy where we are," Aragorn admitted. Maggie shook her head.

"He desires the Ring for himself," she told him. "It would not suit his purposes to align with Sauron. He still has a great part to play in all of this. I told you that Frodo and Sam will split from us soon, perhaps as early as tomorrow. Gollum will follow them, and he will be integral to the destruction of the Ring. The Ring's corruptive power is why Sam must go with him. Speaking of Sam and Frodo, I need to talk to them tomorrow. Perhaps I shall ride with you."

"Boromir won't be too pleased about that," Aragorn said. "Not after our argument."

"Let me worry about him," Maggie waved her hand dismissively.

"He all but accused me of being a coward," Aragorn admitted, bowing his head. "And in many ways, I fear he may be right. I have no desire for the throne of Gondor. I have never sought power."

Maggie took Aragorn's hands in her own, looking into his eyes, which glinted in the morning sun.

"Boromir worries about his home and his people," she said. "There are worse sins than patriotism. Our path will lead us to Gondor, but not yet. Aragorn, you have proven that you are not a coward. Reluctance is not the same thing as cowardice. Blood is not what makes a good king. Patience, compassion, understanding - all of those things, you have in droves. You will not do this alone. You will have Arwen at your side, for starters." Aragorn smiled sadly at this. "And there is knowledge from my world I can give you. Elected officials, so that the common people have a voice in the ruling of the kingdom. Take your advice from everyone, men and women, and they will guide you."

"I think," he said, smiling at her. "That you'll be one of my top advisors. We'll have to come up with a position for you."

"You can call me the Hand of the King," she smirked. He raised an eyebrow. "Earth joke. Nevermind. Trust in yourself. Have faith, and listen to your gut. When the time comes, you'll know what to do. And we'll be beside you every step of the way."

"Your words bring me some comfort," Aragorn smiled at her. She dropped his hands, and patted his shoulder.

"I might be less than half your age," she said, grinning at him. "But I'm practically from another planet. That has its perks. Foresight about this quest, for one."

"Speaking of," Aragorn leaned against a tree. "You told Celeborn that Merry and Pippin will be captured by orcs. I wish to prevent this, if at all possible."

"I wish it were," Maggie said sadly. "But I think that will alter the course of fate far too much. They will not be harmed. They will take refuge in Fangorn forest, where they will persuade the Ents to make war on Isengard."

"Ents," Aragorn breathed. "I have heard of these tree-giants, but I thought they were myth."

"Apparently not," Maggie smiled. "And Merry and Pippin need to gain confidence in their own abilities. We need to let them do this."

"I will place my trust in you in this matter," Aragorn decided. "If you deem it necessary."

"Please don't tell the others about this," Maggie said worriedly. "They will find out soon enough and be angry with me for not warning them, but I do not want to give Frodo and Sam undue stress, and I'm worried that if Merry and Pippin know, it will jeopardize their ability to complete their task."

"I understand," Aragorn nodded. He lowered his voice. "What about Boromir?"

"I think he may still try to take the Ring from Frodo," she murmured. "But I can't be sure. I will stress to Frodo that, even if he doesn't, the longer the Ring spends in his presence, the worse it will get."

"Do you think you can save him?"

"I sure as shit hope so," Maggie growled. "If he goes and dies on me, I'll kill him."

"Be serious," Aragorn chuckled.

"I am hoping I can prevent him from getting hurt," Maggie said, shaking her head. "I just hope that if he does, it's within my abilities to heal."

"Have faith," Aragorn repeated back at her. She grinned, and gave him a gentle shove.

"Go and rest for a bit," Maggie said. "It's almost dawn, and we have a long day ahead. I'll wake everyone up in a couple of hours."

They headed back to the camp. Aragorn settled in for a nap, and Maggie pulled her book on Elvish medicine out of her bag, and headed for the rock on the edge of the river. She read as the sun came up, listening to the sound of the water lapping gently at the shore. She felt more at peace than she had in a while.

...

The next morning, as they packed the boats, Maggie pulled Boromir aside.

"I'm going to ride with Aragorn today," she said. Boromir made a face at her.

"Why?"

"I need to talk to Frodo and Sam. It's very important."

"Well, that's easily settled. Frodo and Sam can ride with us," he nodded at her. From several feet away, Frodo looked up at her frantically.

"I need to speak to Aragorn, too," she said. "He mentioned that you had an argument last night."

"He is being a coward," Boromir crossed his arms stubbornly.

"He is struggling to know the right path," Maggie said gently, laying her hand on his arm. "Don't judge someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes." She grinned at him. "That way, when you judge them, you're a mile away, and you have their shoes."

Boromir laughed and hugged her.

"I'm not sure any of us know exactly what we're doing," Boromir admitted.

"I do," Maggie grinned. "I'm kissing you."

She wound her arms around his neck, and drew him down for a kiss. Merry and Pippin let out a cheer, so Maggie popped her leg up, and took her hat off, fanning herself as she pulled back.

"Love you," Boromir said hopefully, as Maggie shouldered her pack and headed towards Aragorn's boat.

"Love you too," she replied, smiling over her shoulder.

...

"Why are you riding with us, Miss Maggie?" Sam asked, as Maggie swung her pack into the boat.

"I need to speak with both you and Frodo alone," she said softly. "Come, get in." She swung her leg over the side and settled in, patting the spot between her knees. She held out her hand to help Sam, then Frodo, into the boat. Aragorn gave it a push from the shallows, jumped in nimbly, and settled himself behind Maggie, before padding them out into the current.

When they were out of earshot of the other boats, Maggie spoke.

"You will have to leave us soon," she told them. Sam looked at her in surprise. Frodo, looking over his shoulder at her, did not seem so much astonished as resigned. "Tonight, in fact."

"I must go to Mordor alone," Frodo said. "The Lady Galadriel told me that to be a ringbearer is to be alone."

"And I'm coming with you," Sam said stubbornly. Frodo shook his head. "Mr. Frodo, I promised Gandalf I'd help you. I promised."

"You will keep your promise," Maggie patted Sam on the shoulder. "The two of you have a bond that cannot be broken, and it will take you to the end."

"Is it true that Gandalf will come back?" Sam asked. "I thought you said he was dead. People don't come back from the dead."

"He was dead. But in the words of a great wizard: 'To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure'. You will see him again."

"What if I fail?" Frodo asked. "I don't want Gandalf's sacrifice to have been in vain."

"You won't," Maggie said simply. "You have a weapon far stronger than anything Sauron does. Anything he can imagine."

"What's that?" Frodo asked. "I'm only a hobbit."

"Love," she replied. "You and Sam are joined by the bonds of love. He cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and he cannot break it, not with a thousand swords. Your bond runs deeper than blood, deeper even than romance. Your fates are intertwined. And that will be the salvation of us all."

Frodo looked back at her in wonder.

"Through all of the trials, through all of the suffering you have and will endure, love will carry you through. Sam's love - and the love of us all."

"So I get to go with him, then?" Sam said hopefully.

"Yes," she replied. "Saint Sam, you are more important than words will be able to say."

Maggie reached into her bag then, and handed a plastic container to Sam. "This is a burn salve," she told him. "I said I work with men who fight fires - we used this a lot. It will come in handy when you reach Mount Doom." She also pulled out a glass jar filled with an herbal paste. "This is a wound salve Elrond gave me. I still have some from my own world, and I can always make more. Use it for any bruises and scrapes along the way."

"Thank you, Miss Maggie," Sam took the two medicines from her, and wrapped the glass one in his handkerchief, before burying them deep in his pack. Frodo still looked worried.

"Have faith," she told him. He smiled sadly. She gathered the two hobbits to her. "Group hug!"

She could feel Aragorn laughing from behind her.

"I'm going to miss your stories, Miss Maggie," Sam said mournfully. "And your songs."

"Well, there are many hours of daylight left," Maggie smirked. "And we're stuck in a boat. I think I can indulge you. What should I tell you?"

"I'd like to hear the rest of the one that goes with the song about kings," Frodo looked at her, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Aragorn threw his head back and groaned, and the other three laughed.

"All right," she said. "This is the story of The Lion King."

She went through the tale, singing songs where appropriate. By the end, even Aragorn had to admit to himself he was having fun, even though when it came to the scene where Rafiki blessed the lion prince, she dipped her thumb in the water and dragged it across his forehead, whispering 'Simba', which now the hobbits had taken to calling him. They had also taken 'Hakuna Matata' as their new motto. The Lion King was Maggie's favourite Disney film, so she knew almost every line, and even did voices. The other two boats pulled in closer to listen, and her wild descriptions had them all in stitches.

By the time they pulled ashore for a rest, the hobbits were in very good spirits.

...

Maggie slipped into Boromir's boat for the afternoon. According to Aragorn, they would be reaching the Pillars of the Kings before dusk.

Maggie sang a few songs for Merry and Pippin, who had missed out on some of her rendition of The Lion King. Merry somehow managed to get a splinter in his foot from the bottom of the boat, and from the way he carried on about it, Maggie thought it'd be the size of a bullet, but as she sat with her tweezers and his foot in her lap, she pulled out a tiny little splinter.

"Oh, it's huge!" Pippin teased.

"It hurt!" Merry defended himself, brow still sweating, as Maggie slathered antibiotic ointment on his foot and put a bandaid on it.

"Do you need me to kiss it better?" she chuckled at him, shoving his foot off of her lap. He scowled at her, and began bickering with Pippin.

"Shut up, you two," she threatened. "Or I'll turn this boat around and there'll be no ice cream for anyone!"

Boromir snickered from behind them, and the conversation turned to favourite desserts instead.

...

In the late afternoon, as she leaned back against Boromir, enjoying the gentle sway of the boat, she looked up and gasped.

"Frodo, the Argonath!" she heard Aragorn say. "Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin."

Maggie stared up into the carved faces, as unmoving and unchanged by their passage as the rest of the rock. They floated through the lake in silent reverence.

Aragorn indicated for them to disembark on a gravel beach. They dragged the boats ashore, and began to set up camp.

"We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot," Aragorn instructed. "We approach Mordor from the north."

"Oh, yes?" Gimli scoffed. "It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impossible labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better!" Everyone turned to look at Gimli. "Festering, stinking marshlands as far as the eye can see."

"That is our road," Aragorn said, his voice weighted with authority. "I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf."

"Recover my...? Bah!" Gimli scoffed.

Maggie looked up as Legolas crossed to Aragorn. She heard them talking quietly, and instinctively reached for her pistol.

"Where's Frodo?" asked Pippin. "Come to think of it, where's Sam?"

"We should look for them," Legolas said. They split up, Maggie taking her whole pack and her guns, fearing the worst.

...

Boromir stood alone, away from the camp. The bag in his pocket throbbed, as if by magic. He reached into his pocket and drew it out. Slowly, almost fearfully, he opened it, dumping the contents into his hand.

A piece of parchment was rolled up. He unrolled it. On it, in an elegant hand, was written: 'When the time comes, I know you will choose the right ring. -G"

He opened his hand, and smiled.

...

An inhuman cry sounded from the woods. Maggie looked up, and drew her gun. The Uruk-Hai were approaching rapidly. She looked around and noticed that Boromir was not near.

"Fuck!" she cursed, running into the woods at breakneck speed, calling his name. Aragorn was close behind her. "We must defend these shores so Frodo and Sam can get away," she gasped at him.

"We will save him."

...

As the group left the shores into the woods, Frodo and Sam took their opportunity to escape in a boat.

No more than ten steps in, Maggie and Aragorn engaged the enemy. Maggie's gun fired loudly, shocking the Uruk-Hai at first, but they seemed not to care about her weapon. She unloaded one clip into the first group alone, and quickly reloaded, hearing a very hobbit-like scream from deeper in the woods.

She stepped up over a hill, just in time to see two Uruk-Hai lift up Merry and Pippin.

"Maggie!" Pippin screamed, as they were carried away. Her eyes swept over the clearing.

Boromir was on the edge of it, battling with every ounce of his strength. Before she could even react, an arrow shot out of the shadows and pierced right near his collarbone.

"NO!" she screamed, and fired frantically into the brush where the arrow had come from. A second arrow fired, and Aragorn, moving with inhuman speed, threw himself at Boromir and shoved him out of the way.

But not enough. The arrow embedded itself in Boromir's bicep.

Aragorn jumped into the fray, shielding Boromir's body with his own as he slumped against a tree, hacking at Uruks with a crazed glow in his eyes. Maggie finally managed to fell the Uruk who had shot at Boromir, and as Aragorn made quick work of the last of the Uruks in the clearing, Maggie fell to her knees beside Boromir, tears streaming down her face as she took in his pallor. Aragorn guarded them. In the distance, she could hear Gimli's growls and the whistle of Legolas' bowstring.

"Oh god," she said, reaching for her medical kit in desperation. She used her scissors to cut the leather and tunic away from the wound on his shoulder. "Oh no," she breathed, unable to see the wound from where the sharp-tipped arrow had pierced his chain mail. "Stay with me," she said.

"They've taken the little ones," he said, panting. Sweat was pouring down his face, and she didn't like the look of the pallor of his skin.

"Shh," she said. "It's okay."

She looked up at Aragorn. "Do I take the arrow out?"

"I think that is a chance you must take," Aragorn replied. Maggie drew in a shaky breath, wishing she could give a blood transfusion. She reached into her bag, and pulled out a package of Celox, a coagulant powder that was a last-ditch resort to stop heavy bleeding.

Legolas ran up behind them. Maggie heard him suck in a breath.

"Aragorn, help me," Maggie begged. He knelt beside her, and managed to wrench apart enough of the rings of the chainmail to give her a few centimetres radius to work in. She mopped up the blood with some gauze, and breathed a sigh of relief. "It hasn't pierced any major arteries, oh thank god."

She yanked on gloves and grabbed her scalpel. "Deep breath, honey." She cut into the wound, carefully excising the tip. When she'd cleared enough flesh away, Aragorn yanked it out. Boromir howled in pain. "I know, I know." She tore open the Celox with her teeth, and poured it over the wound, before grabbing a gauze pad and applying pressure with both hands. She indicated for Legolas to take over, as she moved to his bicep.

"Still with me?" she asked. Boromir nodded faintly, breathing heavily. Thanks to Aragorn's fast action, this arrow was not deep - barely the tip had pierced the mail, and she managed to get it out easily.

"Help me get his clothes off," Maggie said. Aragorn pulled off the coat, and Legolas let go of the wound long enough to get the chainmail and tunic over his head, followed by his bloody shirt, which was sticking to his skin. Boromir moaned in agony.

"Pressure, please," she said to Legolas. She cleaned and disinfected the wound on his arm, closing it with a couple of butterfly strips, before filling a syringe with lidocaine. She nodded at Legolas, who removed the gauze. The wound was no longer pouring blood, but it still looked very nasty. She sucked in a breath. "Put pressure here," indicated an area beside the wound, to stop the flow to the artery.

"I'll work fast, Boromir. Scream as loud as you want, swear even, it helps," she told him.

She took out forceps and dissolving thread already threaded in a needle. The artery was punctured, but thankfully not severed. She pulled out a clot made by the coagulant, ignoring the gasps of pain, clamped the artery beside the hole, and quickly stitched it, murmuring prayers of thanks that she'd had to do this on the field once before. She removed the clamp, crossed her fingers, and nodded at Legolas. He released the pressure. A tiny droplet of blood welled up, but the stitches held. Maggie let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She patted a little extra coagulant into the wound, then assessed the rest of it. She didn't think there was much else she could do but disinfect it, stitch it, and pray, so that's what she did. She injected some lidocaine to give him some pain relief, and stitched the flesh back together in a V-shape. She then dressed the wound, and looked down at Boromir, who was still whimpering, pale, and sweating. She looked at Aragorn worriedly, and took his vital signs. His temperature was elevated, but not too much, but his blood pressure was alarmingly low. His heartbeat was steady, but his breathing erratic. She said a silent prayer that he hadn't gone into shock, but she knew they weren't out of the woods yet.

By then, Gimli had joined them. Maggie turned to the three, and looked at Aragorn.

"You three must go after Merry and Pippin," she said. "His only chance is rest, and I won't leave him alone."

"You cannot stay here, alone and vulnerable, with an injured man!" Gimli protested.

"Your part in this quest is essential," she said. "Ours is not. Boromir was fated to die today. I may have been sent to prevent that. We will meet later, in Edoras. I have my guns. Go!"

Aragorn nodded at her, and turned to run into the woods, and, with one last reluctant glance back, Gimli followed. Legolas patted her shoulder, and took off after them.

Boromir looked at her, through exhausted eyes.

"Be honest with me," he said. "Will I live?"

"You've lost a lot of blood," she shook her head. "I don't like that, but if we can get you to rest for a few days, and it doesn't get infected? You should recover. You'd better. I'll kill you myself if you go and die on me now."

Boromir's laugh turned into a rasping cough.

She monitored him carefully. She had one bag of saline in her pack - the heaviest thing she'd carried around - and an IV hookup. She only had two IV needle insertion kits, so she had to get this right.

Using a tourniquet, she desperately prodded for a vein, made difficult by the low volume of blood. Finally, she found one on the back of his hand. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, but yelped when she inserted the needle.

To her relief, she'd hit the vein. She prepped the IV bag, and hung it on a low branch, before connecting it to the cannula.

"That's cold," he rasped, as the fluid entered his vein. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you fluids directly into your veins. They might help with the blood loss. I wish I could give you a transfusion..."

She paused, and slapped her forehead, gasping at her own stupidity. Digging into her bag, she pulled out the second IV kit. Boromir watched in confusion as she tied a tourniquet around her own left arm and, slapping it, found a vein. She inserted the needle with a hiss, and sighed in relief when the IV took. She scooted closer to him, and shut off the saline for a moment, then connected the tube in her arm to the cannula on his IV. She flicked a switch, and her blood began to flow into his veins.

"What are you doing?!" he cried. "You cannot give me your blood!"

"Actually, I can. We've discovered that there are different types of blood, which means that a lot of people are incompatible - and I can't test yours to find out what type you are. But I'm O negative - the universal donor, and the rarest blood type. Anyone can take my blood. In my panic, I forgot."

"Do you not need your own blood?" he asked, confused.

"Not all of it," she said. "I can give you enough to help, at least. About a pint. Maybe a pint and a half. It will help. I'll be a little tired. In my world we can test blood type, and we keep stores of blood to transfuse to people,who have lost blood. I donate all the time."

She watched the flow carefully, not having a bag to measure it into. After a few minutes, she began to taste a metallic flavour in her mouth, which she remembered from past times donating blood. She gave it a few more minutes, then disconnected them, reconnecting the saline to his arm, and leaving the IV in her own arm, taping it down, just in case.

His colour looked better already. Maggie pulled her water bottle out of her bag, and found the salt and sugar packets she'd brought all the way from her long-forgotten lunch in the truck. Dumping some of each in the bottle, she shook it, and took a swig, grimacing.

"Doesn't taste too good," she said. "But it will help rehydrate you." She helped him take a few mouthfuls of the liquid, cradling his head in her lap. She covered him with her plaid blanket, then the emergency blanket, then his own cloak, as he was shivering from cold and blood loss.

"It's possible that you've saved my life," Boromir whispered. "Your own blood now runs in my veins."

She placed her right hand gently over his heart, and gazed into his eyes.

Neither of them noticed her ring glowing faintly, as the night fell.

...

A/N: Internet cupcakes to anyone who picks up on the myriad of references this chapter is loaded with. :)

Last chapter title: Song for the Mira by Allister MacGillivray.


	14. I hear a young minstrel sing

...  
A/N: Sorry for going so long between updates! Was on a little mini-vacation. I got to see a Cirque du Soleil show (highly recommended, btw), and get in some relaxation out in the country, so I'm fresh with inspiration, though it will take me a while to catch up with writing.

Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed. You make this worth it.  
...

Chapter Fourteen - I hear a young minstrel sing  
...

Maggie stayed awake all night, while Boromir slept. She had given him a small dose of morphine to ease his pain and to help him sleep. She didn't dare light a fire, not knowing if Uruk-Hai were completely out of the area yet. The last thing she wanted to do was bring attention to the two of them. She woke Boromir every few hours to take his vitals, and when the saline drip was done, she capped the IV, but left it in place.

As the sun rose, Maggie pulled a piece of lembas from her pack. She ate a bite herself, then woke Boromir and helped him eat a little, washing it down with the rehydrating solution. He was still very weak, and more than a little nauseated, so she didn't let him eat more than the smallest of bites.

Maggie herself was exhausted. Donating blood always made her a little sleepy, and combined with the adrenaline surge that performing field surgery had given her, then the crash that inevitably followed, and staying up all night - needless to say, she was absolutely drained. Boromir looked at her worriedly.

"You need to rest," he said, as she peeled back the bandage near his collarbone. The area was bruised, but it wasn't hot to the touch, and the stitches looked good. It oozed a little clear fluid, so she bandaged it again.

"Are you in pain?" she asked. He nodded. She dug some Tylenol out of her bag, and made him swallow them. "I'm not sure how well these will work, but I don't want to give you morphine again if I don't have to."

"That made my head feel very strange," he told her. "Almost like being drunk, but different. And my skin feels itchy, like something is crawling on it."

"It does that to me too," she said. "It should go away soon. If it isn't gone by tonight I'll give you something to stop the itching, because that will make you sleepy, too. I had the weirdest dreams on morphine. I had to have my appendix out - it's a little thing in your bowels that serves no purpose other than to get infected," she explained, at his quizzical glance. "If it bursts, you can die. Anyway, they loaded me full of morphine and I dreamt that I was a flying bear."

Boromir laughed. "I do not remember if I dreamt last night," he told her. "But at least I wasn't a bear."

She yawned widely, covering her mouth.

"You really need to sleep," he chided gently. She looked around, listening for any strange sounds. She sighed, and took her crossbow from her pack. She handed it to him.

Do you know how to use this?" she asked. He nodded, and loaded a bolt. "If you shoot that, believe me, I'll wake up. But I don't want you unprotected. Are you sure you can stay awake?" He nodded at her again. "Okay. Give me a minute to get us some more cover."

She walked up the ridge, and yanked a fallen, very leafy branch off the ground, dragging it over to the big tree they lay by. She arranged it so they couldn't be seen from the top of the hill, but so they could see anyone coming.

Maggie curled up in her cloak next to him, and fell asleep instantly.

...

Boromir lay beside Maggie, leaning against the same tree he'd fallen against when hit. He'd barely been able to stand that morning, so to his embarrassment, Maggie had helped him into the woods away from their impromptu camp, and had stayed close while he'd relieved himself.

The look in her eyes when she'd first assessed his wounds had scared him, and suddenly, as he leaned against the tree and watched her sleep, he recalled her reaction on that night in Lothlorien - when she had cried, predicting the death of a member of the fellowship. The realization hit him that her tears that night had been for him - that in the story she knew, he was the one who was fated to die. He sucked in a breath.

He gazed at her sleeping form with a renewed sense of respect and wonder. She had saved his life - in more ways than one, providing the possible infection she constantly fretted about didn't set in. He flexed his hand, where a piece of that sticky paper she called 'tape' still held the strange contraption in his vein. She wore a matching one in her left forearm. He leaned his head back and looked up at the green canopy of the trees, the morning light casting dancing shadows across the forest floor.

She had given him her blood. Her lifeforce itself. He had felt it pulse into his veins, restoring his strength and warming him from the inside out. It was something he could never have envisioned happening, never could have conceived possible.

He felt in his pocket for the package Galadriel had given him, and twirled it in his fingers a few times. The time was not yet right, and perhaps wouldn't be until the end of this quest, but something told him he was going to marry this girl.

...

When Maggie awoke, it was mid-afternoon. She ran her hand through her hair, standing the already-messy strands on end. Boromir chuckled from behind her, and she turned to look over her shoulder.

"Feeling alright?" she scooted closer to him, and placed her hand against his forehead. He didn't feel unnaturally warm, so she decided not to prod at him too much for the moment.

"I feel much better," he told her. "I would like to walk a bit, actually."

"That's a good idea," she agreed. "Just don't overdo it. Here, let me help you up." She boosted him up by placing her hands under his armpits, but he stood much more easily than he had that morning. Perhaps the morphine had made him more dopey than she had thought.

He walked around the clearing, seeming to be pretty steady on his feet. He looked at her hopefully.

"Don't go out of yelling distance," she told him. "And take my crossbow." He wandered off a bit, and Maggie set about making a fire, figuring that if any Uruk-Hai were around, they'd have appeared by now.

To her surprise, he returned less than half an hour later, carrying a rabbit.

"Geez, I told you to take a walk, not go out hunting," she scolded. "I'm pretty sure that qualifies as 'overdoing it', you know." He grinned at her, and began skinning and gutting it with his knife. They ended up roasting it whole over the fire, after Maggie rubbed some herbs into it that she'd found from referencing her Elvish text. They both ate heartily.

"Caveman dinner," Maggie chuckled, licking the juices from her fingers and giving him a savage grin.

"Caveman?"

"Cavemen were our early ancestors on my world. They existed millions of years ago - they used basic stone tools, and were the first creatures to learn the use of fire," she said. "They were very primitive, and not particularly civilized. Hence, caveman dinner. Just meat stuck in the fire."

"How do your people know so much about the history of your world?" he asked.

"There are people whose jobs it is to research this. They dig up ancient remains, or temples, or villages, and they can decipher much about the way people lived. There's even a way to check their bones and figure out what their diet was - things like that. And once written history began, they started using that as basis for theories about how people lived."

"Fascinating," Boromir said. "I don't know if our history goes back before the First Age."

"We separate time into two pieces - BCE, and CE - Before Common Era, and Common Era. I mentioned Christianity before, well, their messiah was born in what is now considered year zero of the Common Era. Those pyramids I mentioned in Moria were built a little over two thousand years BCE."

"And what year are you from, by that system?"

"The year 2013," she told him. "I was born in December of 1982."

"So you are thirty years old?"

"Yep," she nodded. "But I'm not sure how to measure my birthday here. It's February, and we left Rivendell in December. Yet it was April when I left my world. So does that make my birthday seven months from when I arrived?"

"It seems so," Boromir shook his head. "But that is confusing. So here your birthday will be in June."

"Always wanted a summer birthday, anyway," she smiled. "When's yours?"

"I was born in the year 2978 of the Third Age," he told her. "In October."

"So that means you're pushing forty," she giggled. "Ooh, you cradle-robber, you."

"I think you could apply that term more to Arwen than to myself," he chuckled. "She was already well over two thousand years old when Aragorn was born, if I remember correctly."

"Oh, I'll tease him about that!" she laughed.

"We should set off tomorrow," Boromir said, suddenly serious.

"You're not in a state to walk all day yet," she scolded him, frowning.

"Perhaps not, but sitting here doing nothing isn't doing me any good either. I promise that if I cannot handle it, I will tell you, and we will stop."

She eyed him carefully, then nodded.

"We'll go slow. We will be meeting the others at Edoras. Do you know the way?"

"Aragorn gave me this," Boromir pulled a map out of his pack. "I think so."

"Well, we'll get a good night's rest tonight, and set out at first light," Maggie conceded. "But we're taking it slow, and if I say we're stopping because I think you're overdoing it, don't you argue with me."

They chatted for a little bit, planning the next leg of their journey. As dusk fell, Maggie pulled her iPhone from her bag and booted it up.

"I've been saving the power on this thing," she said. "But I think it's about time you get an idea of what people back home can do."

She curled up next to him, and pulled her tartan blanket over them both, perching the phone on her knee.

"What are we doing?" Boromir asked, staring at the little, shiny black box in confusion. She pressed something, and the screen lit up.

"We're watching a movie. It's like a play, only this one is animated - drawn and in motion."

He gave her a look of combined wonder and puzzlement. In response, she boosted the volume on the phone, and opened a video.

Immediately, Boromir's eyes widened in shock. In front of his very eyes, a castle emerged, surrounded by fireworks and stars. Something about it didn't look quite real.

"What is this?" he breathed. "How did it get in there?"

"This is where I get most of my stories from," she told him. "This one is called 'Tangled' - it's the story of a princess who has been trapped in a tower her entire life. Most of the stories I tell are from movies like this."

They settled in, Boromir asking the occasional question about the plot, but mostly he stayed quiet, enthralled by what was taking place in the tiny box. By the end, he was smiling, Maggie curled up under his right arm.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," he said. "I think the hobbits would have liked to see this, though."

"I know," Maggie replied. "But the screen is too small for more than two or three people, and the sound doesn't get loud enough."

"Do they have bigger screens where you come from?"

"Yep," Maggie said. "New movies come out in a theatre, which is a huge screen. Most people in my country have what are called televisions, which are from about the size of the length of your forearm, to as wide as the span of both arms. So you can watch movies at home."

"How do they do it?"

"I don't know the specifics," she said. "But we can make a little movie right here."

"How?" Boromir looked confused. Maggie turned on the video camera, and held it at arm's length.

"Say hi, Boromir," she said. Boromir, obligingly, waved at the little box. "People probably won't believe me when I say I've been to Middle Earth, but here you have the son of the Steward of Gondor himself." Without releasing the phone, she leaned over and kissed him. Then she clicked it off, and brought it close to show him. He was startled by he moving image of himself in the little box.

"I don't understand how this works," he told her. "It's amazing."

"Pretty cool, huh? You can take still photos, too," she said, demonstrating with a 'selfie' shot of the two of them. He chuckled at the funny face she made in the picture. "I'm gonna shut it off now, before it runs out of power. Who knows if I'll need it again."

"We should get some sleep, anyway," he yawned.

"We should. I'll take first watch. I'll wake you in three hours, then after I sleep for three, wake me, and we can each sleep for two more before we have to leave. Here, give me your shirt, it's all bloodstained. I'll try to get the worst off."

He shrugged off the white shirt, having already taken off the heavy chainmail and shredded red tunic. She wrapped him in her tartan blanket, and he quickly fell asleep.

...

Maggie set up her flashlight near the river, and scrubbed the shirt against the rocks. With the help of the Elvish soap and the cold water, she managed to get the worst of the stains out. She wrung it out well, and proceeded to wash her camo pants, two tank tops, underwear, and sweater, standing in her jeans and sports bra. She hung everything on branches near the crackling campfire, and leaned against a log with her book.

She decided to let Boromir have an extra hour of sleep, and didn't tell him when she woke him up. He took his turn on watch, staying close to her as she curled up by the campfire. He walked around and checked on the clothes, turning everything around so the heat from the fire would dry it faster, before settling in and watching Maggie sleep.

...

In the early morning, they packed up their camp, trying to figure out what to bring and what to leave behind. Maggie finally removed the IVs, burning the plastic tubing and empty saline bag. The smoke stung Boromir's nose with an acrid stench.

"The Horn of Gondor is split in half," he said sadly, showing her the two pieces. "It must have happened when I fell against the tree. It feels like a bad omen."

"I'm sorry," she took his hands in hers. "I know how much your country means to you, and this was an emblem of your station."

"All the same, I suppose we shall leave it," he tossed it on the pile of his chainmail and torn tunic. "It's a pity I have no other clothing."

"We'll get something when we get to Edoras. For now, you have the shirt and cloak, and if you need something warmer, let me know and you can have my blanket." Maggie looked at his abandoned clothing with a queer feeling in her stomach, but shook it off, heading over to her pack.

Maggie was already travelling pretty light as it was, so she gathered up everything and packed it in her bag. Her years in the military had taught her how to sandwich an astounding amount of kit into a tiny space, so everything fit nicely. She took Boromir's knife from him, hooking it into her belt, and slung the bag over her shoulder.

"Here, give me your shield," she said, reaching out her hand. He shook his head.

"I can carry it," he responded stubbornly.

"You're already carrying your sword, and I know that thing weighs a bloody ton. Gimme," she beckoned with her fingers.

"A warrior does not give up his shield," he shook his head at her.

"Jeez, you sound like a Spartan."

"What's a Spartan?"

"Ancient warriors from the Greek culture. Three hundred of them went up against another army of millions of Persians at the battle of Thermopylae. They had a few thousand Athenian soldiers with them, I think, but the Spartans were a race of warriors unmatched by any. Even the women were warriors and fighters. If a baby was born too weak, or deformed in some way, it was left on the mountain to die. Spartan boys were expected to sleep outdoors, even in the dead of winter. They were betrayed by a man who showed the army a hidden pass to get behind them, but in the end, the Greeks won. A Spartan woman would say to her man before he left for war: 'Return with your shield, or on it', for dead soldiers were often carried home on their shields. Defeat was not an option."

"That sounds about right," Boromir replied. "Those men had honour, even if their methods for child rearing are madness."

"They were experts in warfare. If a Spartan man abandoned his shield he was considered to be a coward, because in formation your shield protected not only yourself, but your neighbour from neck to knee. They usually fought with spears, I think."

"They do not sound like men I would want to engage in battle," he smiled at her. "But we could use a few hundred Spartans to march on Mordor."

"No worries," Maggie said, as they set off. "The men of Gondor are brave enough, and they will unite under their King."

...

They marched for a good three hours before Maggie forced them to take a break, both drinking from the water bottle she'd filled at the river. He carried a skin full of water as well. They each had a bite of Lembas, and Maggie took off her boots, rubbing her sore feet. She changed her socks, because in the harsh sun she had been sweating and did not want to risk blisters or worse. She checked Boromir's wounds, and was satisfied enough with the one on his arm that she removed the bandage so it could be exposed to the air and dry up faster. He didn't have a fever, though he was sweating from the exertion.

"Are you sure you're okay to keep going?" Maggie asked, as she swung her pack over her shoulder again.

"I feel fine," he said. "No more fussing, please."

"If you say so," she shook her head at his stubborn manner, and set off again.

Within about ten minutes she was whistling another of her strange tunes. She heard Boromir chuckle from over her shoulder, so she began to sing.

"Your love is like bad medicine, bad medicine is what I need, shake it up just like bad medicine, there ain't no doctor that can cure my disease," she pretended to play air guitar, and he just laughed at her.

"When you need, that's what you get for falling in love, then you bleed, you get a little but it's never enough, on your knees, that's what you get for falling in love, now I'm addicted and your love is the drug," she did a little pirouette and gave him a gentle kiss.

"Songs from your home are very strange," he said into her mouth. She laughed.

"I could sing the national anthem and you'd find it strange," she retorted.

"National anthem?"

"Yeah, pretty much every country from my home has one," she explained. "They're usually sung before sporting events, or on Remembrance Day, ceremonies, things like that. I hear enough of them before hockey games."

"What's hockey?"

"It's a sport. I used to play, actually, back in high school. You play on a frozen surface - we have artificial ones, but pretty much every Canadian kid grew up playing on a backyard pond. You wear these blades on your feet called ice skates - they let you glide across the surface, and you carry a stick with a curved end," she motioned the shape with her hands. "The point of the game is to score goals by knocking a little disc - called a hockey puck - into the opposing team's net. Each team has six players per shift - one goaltender, whose job it is to keep the puck out of the net, three forwards, who try to get the puck in the other net, and two defencemen, who back up the goalie and try to keep the puck out of their end of the rink - we call the ice a rink. You can get penalties for doing things that aren't legal in the game, like hitting someone the wrong way, or tripping them with your stick, then you get a penalty and your team loses a guy."

"I should like to see one of these games," Boromir said, trying to picture it in his head and falling short.

"Well, maybe once this is over, we can get everyone together and play. You can play street hockey - you don't need ice for that, just a flat surface, and a ball. I imagine Gondor's carpenters could probably make us some sticks."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," he grinned at her. "Can you sing me this song?"

She launched into the Canadian national anthem, then when she was done, sang it again in French, explaining that her home has two official languages, though she didn't speak a whole lot of French.

"We should compose an anthem for Gondor," Boromir said. "There are several traditional songs, but nothing official like what you explained."

"That would be fun," she replied. "But I'm not much of a songwriter. Maybe if I explain the concept someone else can come up with one. A few years ago my country hosted the Olympic Games - most of the world participates, it's the biggest sporting competition in the world. Every four years, we have a summer Olympics, and a Winter Olympics the opposing years, so there's one every two years. And our hockey team won, it was beautiful and patriotic and amazing." She smiled at the memory.

"Perhaps we can stage one of these 'Olympic' games in Middle Earth," Boromir smiled.

"Nah. Elves would win everything, and we can't let that happen," Maggie joked.

"Legolas would be insufferable," Boromir conceded.

...

They hiked on, Boromir talking about growing up in Gondor, Maggie explaining yet more things about her world. They camped, taking shelter in a small copse of trees, and continued on.

They picked their way across the plains slowly, for what felt like ages of endless walking and camping. Finally, the banners of Edoras appeared on the high ridge in the distance. Maggie pulled her hat down low over her head, and turned to Boromir, nodding.

"Let's hope Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf managed to get there before us, otherwise we might be in for some trouble," Maggie said. "Theoden has been corrupted, but Gandalf will save him. I just wonder what will happen if we get there first. Of course, they're coming back on horses. Maybe we'll do a little reconnaissance work before we enter the city, see if we can find out what's going on."

"Good idea," Boromir replied. "Perhaps we should approach the city by nightfall?"

Maggie nodded, and they slowed their pace.

...

A/N: Next up, Edoras. I'll need to rewatch TT and ROTK - it has been many years since I've seen either, and I'm starting to feel a little fuzzy around the edges about the details. Hopefully this interim chapter will tide you over until I can get back into the swing of it. :)

Last chapter song: We Are The Champions by Queen. Duh. :P


	15. All black and white just fades to grey

...

A/N: Things will pick up a bit of pace now. I haven't rewatched the entirety of TT, because a lot of it is 'off camera' for us here, and the rest will be slightly modified anyway.

A good chunk of the end of this chapter is movie script, but next chapter will deviate and go into some fun.

Thanks again to all who read, reviewed, favourited and followed. Ya'll rule.

...

Chapter Fifteen - All black and white just fades to grey

...

Boromir and Maggie found a small copse of trees to hide in, far enough to be out of sight of the city. Toward the end of the day, the rumble of hooves tearing up the earth could be felt. Maggie climbed up a branch and watched as Éomer and his riders approached Edoras at great speed. She jumped down, and looked worriedly at Boromir.

"Gandalf and the others will arrive tomorrow afternoon. We'd be wiser to stay here until they arrive. Éomer will be banished from Edoras by nightfall. They return with a dying Théodred."

"Théoden's son? He will die?" Boromir raised his eyebrows. "Is there nothing you can do to save him?"

Maggie shook her head sadly. "I believe his wounds have punctured his bowels. That's too far beyond my skill to heal, besides which he also has extensive head injuries. And if we enter the city with Théoden so corrupted, we're liable to get thrown in prison. Or worse. I'm afraid he is beyond my help."

Boromir took her hand in his. She looked into his eyes and smiled sadly.

"That's something you have to get used to when you work in the healing business. Often there is nothing you can do but be a mere sentinel as someone passes from this world. So many times I've been present at the beginning of life, and even more often at the end of it. And it doesn't matter how many times you see death, it never fails to mesmerize and disturb at the same time," she shook her head, as if to clear away the bad thoughts. "Some people leave peacefully in their sleep. Some people leave in a terrifying last moment of panic before some kind of impact. Some leave screaming and fighting tooth and nail. It isn't the same for anybody, and no one knows what comes next. Which strikes fear into so many people."

"I have been present when many a soldier has died. I know what you mean," he said, embracing her. She lay her head on his shoulder. "And yet we are both soldiers, you and I. We know what can happen at any moment, and place ourselves in danger nonetheless."

"Because it's the right thing to do," she murmured. "But that doesn't mean we aren't scared. Being a good solider is about knowing your fear and letting it envelop you, but not overwhelm you, because at the end of the day, you have a job to do. I work with men who risk their lives at the sound of an alarm, who barrel into burning buildings as if they're invulnerable even they know any one of them can fall in an instant. They save lives at great risk to their own. And I'm always on the sidelines, waiting to clean up the ones they pull from the wreckage. Which I will keep on doing here, as long as I can."

Boromir pulled back and kissed her gently. "It seems we're both destined to take part in this great battle." She clung to him in response, looking into the distance as the setting sun blazed across the plains.

"We are," she replied finally, firmly. "And we'll survive this. We have to."

Boromir led her over to the base of the largest tree, and spread out his cloak in a spot that was well hidden in the underbrush. She sat down on it, pulling off her boots. She wrapped him in her wool blanket, and curled up next to him.

"I don't dare risk a fire," Maggie told him, shivering a bit at the cold settling over them. "But I think if we don't light one, we can risk skipping watch for tonight. I know there are no orcs in this area, and I doubt anyone will leave the city to find us unless we draw attention to ourselves." Boromir nodded in agreement. They both drank some water, and Boromir pulled a piece of lembas from his pack.

"I have to admit, I'm looking forward to a proper meal in Edoras," Maggie chuckled, as she popped the waybread into her mouth. "Lembas is better than some of the rations we got in the war, but it gets a bit tiring eating the same thing day after day."

"Perhaps they'll even have beer to offer us," Boromir grinned at her.

"They will," she nodded. "I could use something a little stronger than beer after this whole debacle, but I'm a proper Canadian gal, I can enjoy a good beer. We're actually pretty notorious for good beer."

"It isn't very ladylike to drink," Boromir teased. "Other than perhaps a little wine."

"Ha," Maggie snorted. "I've worked my way to the bottom of a bottle of stiff scotch on more than one occasion. I can probably drink you under the table."

"Oh?" he was clearly amused. "I don't know what this scotch is, but you're on, madam."

"Scotch is a glorious drink designed by my ancestors. It's smooth, delicious, and bloody horrible at the same time," she chuckled. "Burns on the way down. Burns on the way back up."

"Tell me about these ancestors," Boromir hooked his hands behind his head. "I have a feeling I would like them."

"Well, I told you I'm from a country called Canada. But most of my ancestors came from Scotland, another country across a vast ocean. My great-grandparents came over by ship, looking for a new life. This blanket, actually, is the Clan Campbell tartan. It belonged to my grandfather," she fingered the green, blue and black fabric. "Hundreds of years ago, the highlands of Scotland were separated into different clans, and each clan had a tartan that they wore. Mostly in reds, greens, browns and blues. All were similar patterns to this, but different widths of the stripes could differentiate them. Men would wear kilts - skirts of this fabric. Even into battle."

"Men in skirts?" Boromir wrinkled his nose.

"With nothing underneath," Maggie snickered naughtily. "And don't knock it. Kilts can be pretty hot. Especially if you have killer legs like yours." She ran her hand along his calf, and he slapped her hand away, laughing. "Anyway, Scots are known for being tough. Some Scottish food is delicious - like shortbread cookies, which are butter, sugar and flour and melt in your mouth, and some is downright weird. Like haggis. You take a sheep's heart, liver and lungs and stuff it into a sheep's stomach. Then you boil it. Ick. And it's served with boiled mashed turnip and potato, which is about the most boring thing you can do with either."

"That doesn't sound especially appetizing," Boromir agreed. "Enough talk about food. I'm starting to get hungry for something other than Elvish bread."

"Like me?" she said cheekily, kissing him. He pulled her to him, laughing into her mouth.

"I could be convinced," he replied coyly, as she slipped her hands under his shirt and trailed them across his taut stomach. She kissed him again, tangling her tongue with his, and straddled him. She broke off the kiss to pull her shirt over her head, and he ran his hands over her bare back before bringing them around to cup her breasts through her bra. She gasped at the contact, and moved off of him. She tugged his pants off of his hips, and removed her own and her underwear.

She had almost lost him, and the need to feel him inside of her surged through her with a desperation she'd never felt. She climbed on top of him, kissing him and pouring everything she felt into his mouth as she did. She sank onto him, and he groaned in response, clinging to her hips.

"So wanton," he moaned, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. She ground against him, and threw her head back.

"Maybe," she replied breathlessly. "But don't deny you're enjoying every minute of it."

He lay back and let her ride him, gripping onto her hips as she moved them in circles, then drew herself up off of him and sank back down. She gasped, and he brought one of his hands to the place where their bodies met, circling his thumb around her heated flesh. She came with a shudder and a gasp, her eyes wide. The feel of her body clenching around him and the sounds she made as she plummeted over the edge sent him careening after her in less than a second. It felt fast, desperate, not like their tender couplings in Lothlorien, but satisfying in a different way.

She collapsed on top of him, taking care to avoid his wound, panting. He stroked her hair, looking down at her face and smiling.

Eventually, she drew away and dressed. He pulled his pants back on, and beckoned to her to come lie beside him.

Wrapped in cloaks and her blanket, curled around each other, they fell asleep, sated.

...

Maggie woke at sunrise, but instead of getting up, snuggled in closer to her lover's chest. One of his arms was wrapped around her waist, the other thrown back behind his head. He was snoring softly. She watched him sleep, smiling as the golden glow of morning drifted across his face and glimmered in his hair. She reached up and tucked a strand behind his ear. His eyelashes fluttered open, and he smiled sleepily as he focused on her face.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"Good morning," she propped herself up on her arms and kissed his forehead. "I need to take a look at that wound of yours."

"Straight to the point," he wrinkled his nose at her. She chuckled and reached for her medical kit. She pulled off the dressing and examined the stitches. It was going to leave a nasty scar, but it looked like it was healing nicely. She put on a fresh bandage, tearing off the tape between her teeth.

"Looks good," she said. "Which is what I like to see."

"You're an effective nurse," he grinned at her. "I doubt I'd be in as good shape without you."

"Hell no," she snorted.

They took their time getting up, eating a bit of lembas and tidying up their little camp. The sun was already starting to beat down on them, so they sat in the shade of the biggest tree, keeping a close eye on Edoras.

They settled in to wait.

...

As the afternoon sun rose above their heads, Maggie spotted three horses in the distance. She shook Boromir's shoulder, and pointed.

"That's them," she said. "Let's go!"

They grabbed their gear, and began to jog towards the approaching figures. She heard Boromir breathing heavily behind her, so she slowed down, and waved her hat high over her head. She saw Gandalf wave his staff back at her, so they slowed to a walk, turning their path toward the city.

"All right?" Maggie asked over her shoulder.

"Still a little weak," Boromir said, frustrated. "Running hurts a bit."

"Yeah, it'll pull on the stitches, which isn't the best plan. I don't want you ripping anything."

They met up with the others about half an hour's walk from the city.

"You're still standing," Aragorn commented to Boromir, smiling. "That is wonderful."

"Thanks to Maggie," he replied. "I would not have survived without her skills."

"He's still a bit weak," Maggie told them. "But he will heal."

"Here, ride behind Gimli," Legolas said, jumping down from the horse and reaching his hand out to help Boromir up. Boromir opened his mouth to protest, but a gentle flick on the arm from Maggie made him reconsider. Maggie handed her pack and rifle to Aragorn, who swung it over his shoulder, and she and Legolas began to jog along the trotting horses.

...

"Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld," Gandalf said as they slowed to a walk, approaching the gates. "There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here."

Maggie looked up at the hall in time to see Éowyn standing out front, her long blonde hair and white dress billowing out behind her. As the wind whipped around the city, a banner came loose from its pole and fluttered down, landing beside them as they made their entrance.

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli said grimly.

The riders dismounted, Maggie grabbing her pack and weapons back from Aragorn as she looked at the hall worriedly. They headed up the steps, led by Gandalf, and were met outside by a group of guards.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame," the apparent leader said. "By order of Gríma Wormtongue."

Gandalf turned, and inclined his head slightly. Everyone began to hand over their weapons. Maggie checked the safety and handed over her guns and crossbow, the guard looking quizzically at the strange weapons.

"Be careful with those," she warned him. "If you drop it, it could go off. They are weapons of fire and iron."

"Your staff," the guard, who introduced himself as Hama said, turning to Gandalf.

"Hmm," Gandalf looked at his staff. "You would not part an old man from his walking stick." Hama looked worried for a moment, then led them into the hall. Maggie hid a smile in a cough as she noticed Gandalf wink at Aragorn, and he stepped forward, holding onto Legolas' arm like an old man. Gríma leaned toward the grey and sickly figure on the throne, and whispered something in his ear.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late," Gandalf said, in his gravely voice. "Théoden King." Gríma leaned forward again, speaking into the King's ear. Maggie wrinkled her nose, taking in the greasy appearance of the one they called Wormtongue.

"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" Théoden rasped.

"A just question, my liege," Gríma stood and walked towards Gandalf. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear." A group of guards began to close in around them. "Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silent!" Gandalf snapped. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm." He raised his staff menacingly.

"His staff!" Gríma wailed. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

The group of guards moved in to grab the others as Gandalf advanced on Théoden. A strong hand grabbed Maggie's arm.

"This is no place for a woman," the guard sneered. "Even one dressed in strange men's garb."

Maggie's eyes narrowed, and she could hear Boromir suck in a breath. She grabbed the guard and swung him around, placing him in a choke hold and setting the heel of her boot against his groin.

"I can crush your balls in a second, if you put your hands on me again," she threatened. She could feel all of the men around her collectively wince. The others did a good job of fending off the guards as Gandalf advanced.

"Théoden, son of Thengel," Gandalf said. "Too long have you sat in the Shadows."

Gríma tried to get up from where he was flung to the floor, but was stopped by Gimli standing on his chest.

"I would stay still if I were you," Gimli told him, glaring.

"Hearken to me!" Gandalf said, raising his hand and closing his eyes. "I release you from the spell."

"You have no power here," Théoden laughed mockingly. "Gandalf the Grey."

Gandalf threw off his grey cloak, and the room suddenly filled with a bright white light. Théoden was flung back in his throne.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound," Gandalf said, thrusting his staff forward. Théoden was flung back again. Éowyn entered the room, and ran towards her uncle. Aragorn caught her.

"Wait," he said.

"If I go, Théoden dies," the king's voice changed, deepened, and it was clear that Saruman was speaking through him. Gandalf advanced on him again, holding his staff in front of him.

"You did not kill me," he growled. "You will not kill him."

"Rohan is mine," Saruman rasped through the king.

"Be gone!" Gandalf commanded. Théoden tried to leap forward from his throne at the wizard, but was thrown back by a wave of Gandalf's staff. He slumped down into the chair, and Éowyn rushed forward, as the colour began to return to his skin, and his beard shortened, transforming before their very eyes. He looked down at Éowyn, who knelt at his knee, tears running down her cheeks.

"I know your face," he said. "Éowyn. Éowyn," he looked around suddenly, puzzled by the ragtag group in front of him. "Gandalf?"

"Breathe the free air again, my friend," Gandalf smiled. Théoden got to his feet, shakily hanging onto to armrests of the throne.

"Dark have been my dreams of late," he said, rubbing his hands.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better," the wizard replied. "If they grasped your sword."

Hamas stepped forward, offering the king his sword. Théoden drew it from its scabbard with a rasp, and lifted it in front of him, looking at it in wonder. His gaze suddenly focused on the man currently trapped under Gimli's boot.

Gríma was thrown out of the hall, and Théoden staggered out after him angrily.

"I've only ever served you, my lord," said Wormtongue, crawling backwards. Théoden stepped forward angrily.

"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" Théoden roared.

"Send me not from your sight," Gríma begged. Théoden raised his sword, as if to kill the man in front of him, but his arm was stilled by Aragorn.

"No, my lord. No, my lord," Aragorn said. "Let him go. Enough blood has been spilt on his account." He bent to offer Gríma a hand up, but the greasy man just spat on him and looked up in disgust, scrambling to his feet.

"Out of my way!" he yelled, shoving and stumbling away through the crowd.

"Hail, Théoden King!" Hama announced, and the people of the city knelt before the king. When Aragorn took a knee beside him, those from behind in the hall followed suit. Théoden returned to the hall, and looked around in confusion. Maggie met Éowyn's eyes, trying to communicate with her with just a look. Éowyn smiled sadly.

"Where is Théodred?" Théoden asked. "Where is my son?"

...

A/N: Up next, a drinking game, a funeral, and a march to Helm's Deep.

Last chapter's song: Alegría from the Cirque du Soleil show of the same name. Alegría means 'joy' in Spanish, but in Italian, it is an expression of sorrow.


	16. Let's raise our glass, you bet your ass

...

A/N: Should be plenty of writing time over the next month. I'll be looking after my rather elderly grandmother while she goes through cancer treatments, and while she has no Internet access, she does spend most of the afternoon watching soap operas and goes to bed at 7pm. I'll be back and forth from home switching off with my Mum, so expect lots of updates in the coming weeks.

To Annafan re: Haggis - I've had it exactly once, and once was more than enough for me. Maybe it's just that we Canucks don't tend to prefer organ meat, but then again, I was twelve years old and the pickiest eater on the planet, and now I'm a vegetarian so I doubt I'll be sampling it again. :P

Love you all. You make my days pass faster.  
...

Chapter Sixteen - Let's raise our glass, you bet your ass

...

Maggie followed Éowyn down the hallway to the chamber where Théodred's body lay. Théoden had wanted to see his son's body, but Éowyn had convinced him to hold off until he could be bathed and dressed. Maggie had offered her help, and soon found herself alone with the young woman.

"You are dressed very strangely, for a woman of the race of Men. And your voice and accent, they are also strange," Éowyn said.

"I'm not from Middle Earth. It's very complicated to explain exactly what happened to bring me here, but here I am, and I'm a capable soldier and healer," Maggie explained.

"A healer?" the blonde woman said with surprise, and a hint of sadness. "You arrived too late."

"I could not have saved him," Maggie replied. She pulled aside the torn fabric on his abdomen, and hissed at the sight of the wound. "This punctured his bowels, which would have poisoned him from within and been well beyond my skills. I wish I could have helped him. But I can help you make him presentable." She examined the gash on his head. "I can stitch shut the abdominal wound, so it doesn't leech out onto his clothing. I don't know much about the funeral rites of your land. Do you wrap them in a shroud?"

"He was a soldier and the son of a king," Éowyn said. "He will be buried in the tombs of the kings, dressed in his armour."

Maggie nodded. Éowyn took a kettle of water from the fire, and poured it into a large earthenware bowl. She began sponging the blood out of his hair. Maggie helped her remove his torn tunic, and then set about stitching up the vast stomach wound, cringing at the sight. It was one of the worst abdominal wounds she had ever seen, and she knew that she could have done nothing for the poor boy.

She looked up at Éowyn as she snipped the thread, who was lovingly washing the grime from Théodred's body.

"I loved him like a brother," she said softly, and began to cry. Maggie removed her gloves, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We were raised together, his mother died giving birth to him. And now my parents are gone, too."

"I lost my parents when I was eight years old," Maggie told her. "I know your grief. Your heart is heavy with it, but someday memories make you smile instead of cry. I know that isn't very much comfort right now, though."

Éowyn smiled at her through her tears. "You are very kind, Lady Maggie."

"Oh, just Maggie," she winked conspiratorially, chuckling. "I'm not much of a lady. You might not have noticed it yet, but you will."

"You said you are a soldier. How can that be?"

"In my country women are, for the most part, seen as equal to men. We can do virtually anything they can. Including joining the army. We can choose who we want to marry. We can choose to divorce that man to marry another. Obedience isn't expected of us anymore," Maggie explained. "It once was - a woman would obey her father until she married, then she was expected to obey her husband. Women have always been far more powerful than men think, and finally we got fed up with their superiority nonsense and wanted a say in our own lives. It came about around the same time as birth control. There are medicines in my world that women can take to prevent pregnancy, which means they can control when and if they have children. Since that point, we've been far more in control of what we do with our lives."

"Are you unmarried?" Éowyn asked, enthralled.

"For now," Maggie smirked. Éowyn raised an eyebrow. "I've been, shall we say, lovers, with one of the men in my fellowship."

"Aragorn?" she asked. Maggie shook her head.

"No, my man is Boromir, son of the steward of Gondor." Comprehension dawned on Éowyn's face.

"The one with the lighter hair, in the bloodstained shirt?" Éowyn's eyes widened. "And you're lovers?"

"That'd be him. He was injured at Amon Hen. He would have died," she shook her head. "Things are different in my world. A woman can have many lovers before she chooses to marry in my land. He understands that. For now, I am safe from the threat of carrying a child."

"That speaks highly of your skills as a healer," Éowyn smiled, as she and Maggie pulled a clean, intricately embroidered tunic over Théodred's body. "Sometimes I wonder if I shall ever marry. Uncle does not seem particularly interested in finding me a husband."

"Well," said Maggie. "Boromir does have a brother..."

...

After they dressed the body of his son, Théoden knelt beside him and held his hand. Maggie and Éowyn left him alone to grieve, knowing that the funeral tomorrow would be very hard on the king. They returned to the main hall, where the rest of the fellowship was partaking in a meal.

Boromir had managed to obtain a fresh shirt and tunic, and was dressed in deep green. As Maggie walked over to him, she noticed that a new mail coat was amongst his effects piled against a pillar.

"How's that shoulder?" Maggie asked, slipping over the bench beside him and stealing a potato off of his plate. He swatted at her with his hands.

"Get your own," he growled playfully. "And I'm fine. A little jarred from that scrum this afternoon, but I'll live."

"Good," Maggie said, before grabbing a plate from the middle of the table and piling it with hot food.

"How is Éowyn?" Aragorn asked from down the table, in a low voice.

"She is grieving," Maggie told him. "But it is Théoden I worry about. It was quite a blow. I think in some ways he blames himself. Éowyn knows nothing could have been done for him - I explained the nature of his wounds, even I couldn't have done anything other than perhaps ease his passing." Aragorn nodded in response, and turned back to his plate, mopping up some gravy with a piece of bread and chewing thoughtfully.

"The funeral is tomorrow?" Legolas asked. Maggie nodded, swallowing. She reached for the pitcher of beer and poured herself a cup. Gimli raised his eyebrow at her as she chugged it down, and refilled it.

"I've only ever seen Dwarf women drink like that," the dwarf said. She grinned at him, spearing a piece of meat with her fork.

"I guess I'm more like a dwarf than a lady," she joked. "Most women where I come from enjoy a good beer. Especially on a hot day."

"Well, let us raise a toast, then," Aragorn said, lifting his stein. "To Théodred's memory."

Everyone else raised their cups, and echoed, then drank.

"We'll win this war," Maggie said. "For all of those who have fallen. It won't have been in vain."

"Hear! Hear!" said Gimli, raising his cup again. They drank heartily, and finished their meal in amicable silence.

After dinner, Théoden returned to the hall, and sat on his throne, his head bowed. Maggie walked over to him, and took a knee in front of him.

"I am sorry for the death of your son," she said. "I wish it had been within my skill to heal. It would be easy to tell you not to despair, but I know that isn't possible, sir."

He smiled at her sadly, and patted her shoulder.

"You dress strangely, but you remind me a bit of Éowyn. Both of you are women with strong spirits."

"Women with spirit get things done," Maggie grinned, rising. "And tend to get into trouble. I like your niece. We are kindred spirits, I think."

"Thank you for helping her in her task tonight," he said. "She was right. I would not have wished to see him so broken."

"It was the least I could do," Maggie bowed her head. "It is not easy to lose a loved one. I have lost many myself - my parents, my grandparents, who raised me, and many a comrade in arms. Each one I lost I cursed myself for not being able to save them. That is the reality of healing."

"Gandalf said you are also a capable soldier," the king replied. "I hope that if needed, I can avail myself of your skills."

"I vow to do my best to protect your people," Maggie bowed to him formally. "I have access to some pretty advanced weaponry that came with me from my world."

"I don't understand how you came to be here, my child," he said. "But I am glad you are here."

"I'm glad you are yourself again," Maggie smiled. "Your kingdom needs your strength. Do not doubt that."

...

Maggie returned to the table where Gimli, Legolas, and Boromir sat. Gandalf and Aragorn were nowhere to be found, so Maggie poured herself another drink and sat astride on the bench.

"Okay boys," she addressed the group. "We're gonna play a little drinking game."

"Oh?" Gimli scoffed. "I don't think a lass like you could keep up with men like us."

"Let me explain the rules first, and we'll see," Maggie grinned. Boromir raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Legolas looked amused.

"The game is called: 'Two Truths and a Lie' - you have to say two things that are true, be they stories that happened to you, facts about yourself, or something of that nature. You have to have at least been present at the event, if it didn't happen to you. The third thing is along the same vein, but it has to be a lie. For example, I could say: 'I was in the military', 'my favourite colour is red', and 'I met Galadriel'. If the three of you guess the lie - you have to come to a consensus - I drink. If you cannot guess the lie, or cannot agree on which is the lie, you drink. Then the game moves on to the next person. Game ends when someone passes out or calls uncle and can't drink anymore, and then we add up who had the most wins."

"Count me in," said the dwarf, slapping his hand on the table.

"Sounds like fun," Boromir smiled, calling for another pitcher of beer.

"I have yet to try one of these 'drinking games'," said Legolas. "I am curious about it, for I have heard Gimli and the hobbits talk about them much. Who shall start?"

"I will, until you get the hang of it. Okay, first story. I broke my arm when I was ten years old because my cousin convinced me that if I jumped off the barn roof I could fly. Second story. I have climbed the highest mountain in the world. Third story. I can do flips in the air, forwards or backwards."

"Ooh, that is tough," Gimli grinned.

"I think you mentioned your cousin before, so I think that one is true!" Boromir chimed in.

"It wouldn't surprise me to know that you'd climbed the highest mountain," Legolas said. "But we have never seen you do a flip. I don't think you can."

"I think that's the lie!" Gimli slammed his hand on the table.

"I agree!" Boromir grinned. "That's the lie!"

"Ha!" Maggie said smugly. "You all drink!"

"I don't believe you," Gimli crossed his arms. "Prove it!"

"Jokes on you, then, I did gymnastics in high school, this is my party trick," she said, pulling her sweater off. She tucked her shirt into the front of her pants. "Boromir, hold my beer. Clear the aisle!"

The few guards milling around obeyed, looking curiously at the girl in the strange clothing. She rolled her ankles, her wrists, and her neck, and stretched out her back. She took a deep breath, took a running start, did a roundoff, into a back handspring, ending in a layout. She landed with a little bounce, and did a front walkover just to show off.

The guards applauded and cheered, and Maggie looked smugly at her table of friends. Legolas was grinning widely and clapping, Boromir slapped his knee and laughed, throwing back his beer, and Gimli was sitting there with his mouth wide open, absolutely gobsmacked. She sauntered back over to the table and sat down without a word, and pointed to Legolas.

Gimli finally recovered, shaking his head, and chugged down his mug of beer with a grumble.

"Hmm," Legolas said. "Where to start. Very well, first story. I am over three thousand years old. Second, my name means 'Greenleaf'. Third, I once ended up confined to my quarters in Mirkwood as a child because I slapped a serving elf."

"First one," Maggie said assuredly, eyeing him with crossed arms.

"You're sure?" Boromir asked uncertainly.

"Positive," she replied. Gimli looked between the girl and the elf.

"I'll place my bet with you, lass," he said finally. Maggie pointed at Legolas, who shook his head, laughing.

"She is correct," Legolas revealed. "I am two thousand, nine hundred and thirty-one years old. How did you know that?"

"I told you this is a myth in my world. I couldn't remember exact numbers, but I knew you weren't three thousand yet. Also, Jesus, you old fart," she gave him a gentle kick under the table. "You barely look a day over twenty-one. I want to know your Elvish beauty secrets."

"Alas, immortality," he shrugged. "No tricks beyond that."

"Humph," Maggie responded. "Drink up, fairy-boy."

"Fairy boy?" he raised his eyebrow. "I'm an elf, and a soldier!"

"Okay, Military Fairy, then," she snickered. He just gave her a strange look, as she turned to Gimli.

"My turn, then?" the dwarf looked thoughtful for a moment. "Very well. Firstly, I disliked Legolas and all elves when we met because his father imprisoned mine for no reason."

"Trespassing," Legolas muttered. Gimli glared at him.

"Secondly, I really dislike riding horses, more than anything else. Thirdly, I can play the flute."

"Well then," Maggie smiled. "Anyone?"

"It's the one about the flute!" Legolas exclaimed. "You hate horses!"

"Shall we go with that, then?" Boromir grinned.

"This is one I can't puzzle out," Maggie said. "The first is true, obviously. Let's go with Legolas' suggestion."

"Ha!" Gimli grinned. "You lose! I can play the flute, and I don't mind horses all that much, so that is the lie. Drink up!"

"Boromir, your turn," Maggie nudged him.

"First story; I lost my horse on my way to Rivendell for the council. Second, I once tied my younger brother in a sack and left him there for four hours before the maid found him. Third, I have an extra gift from Galadriel that no one else knows about."

Maggie looked at him curiously. His poker face remained unmoved.

"You're a hard nut to crack," she said. "If you got an extra gift from Galadriel and didn't tell me about it, I'd be surprised. You were on foot when you picked me up, so that's probably true."

"The gift, the gift!" Gimli pointed at him.

"Yes," said Legolas.

"Wrong!" he smiled mysteriously. "I have never tied my brother in a sack." Maggie gave him a look, but chugged her beer down.

The game continued for several more rounds, until Aragorn came by and stopped everyone, reminding them that there was a funeral in the morning and they'd feel awful enough without massive hangovers.

"Every party has a pooper," Maggie sang at him, slightly tipsy. "That's why we invited you!"

He gave her a funny look, and gathered up the mugs, looking stern.

"Go to bed, now, all of you. Maggie, there is space for you with the women who attend Éowyn. This is one of Éowyn's attendants, she will lead you there.

Gimli let out a great belch, and Aragorn sent the other three off to bed. Before Maggie left the hall, she turned around.

"I won, just so you know!" she yelled after them.

...

The next morning, Maggie swallowed a couple of aspirin for breakfast, and dressed in a plain grey gown borrowed from Éowyn for the funeral. She walked behind the body of the young prince with the other members of the fellowship. Éowyn stood before the tomb and sang a lament for her cousin. His body was passed from the soldiers who bore him there from the city to the women who would lay him to rest, and after they had done so, the doors to the tomb closed, and the citizens returned to their homes, leaving only Théoden and Gandalf to attend him. Éowyn led the fellowship back to the hall. Maggie went to get changed immediately, and returned quickly.

Not long after everyone was seated around a table, somewhat morosely, the door banged open, and the king strode in, followed by Gandalf and two children. They were quickly bustled to a table, and Maggie strode over immediately, as they both looked exhausted. They ate hungrily. Maggie left the room, and returned with her medical kit.

"They had no warning," Éowyn said, as she returned. "They were unarmed. Now the Wild Men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree."

"Where is Mama?" asked the little girl. Éowyn wrapped a blanket around her, and shushed her gently. Maggie checked their pulses, and discovered a bruise on the boy's shoulder. She looked questioningly at Gandalf.

"He fell from the horse," Gandalf murmured. She inspected the bruise, but declared them otherwise fit, if tired and hungry. Gandalf walked back over to Théoden with Aragorn while Maggie helped to tend to the children.

...

A short while later, Hama stood outside the hall. The people of Edoras stood before him.

"By order of the king," he announced loudly. "The city must empty. We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep."

The fellowship, led by Gandalf, walked amongst the people with Hama.

"Do not burden yourself with treasures," Hama said. "Take only what provisions you need."

"Helm's Deep," said the wizard.

"They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight," Gimli scoffed. "Who will defend them if not their king?"

"He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Aragorn said. "Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

The group walked into the stables.

"There is no way out of that ravine," Gandalf explained. "Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre. Théoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defences have to hold!"

"They will hold," said Aragorn assuredly. Gandalf turned to Maggie, and looked at her thoughtfully. She held his gaze, and inclined her head slightly.

"The Grey Pilgrim," Gandalf stroked Shadowfax. "That's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of Men I've walked this earth, and now I have no time. With luck, my search will not be in vain."

He mounted his horse, and looked down at the friends gathered there.

"Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the East."

"Go," said Aragorn. Gandalf rode off, and Maggie laid her hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

"Faith," she reminded him, then walked off on her own to prepare for the journey.

...

Maggie packed up her things in the hall. Éowyn stood a little ways away, and swung a sword around. Aragorn entered then, and caught her sword as she swung with his knife.

"You have some skill with a blade," he said. Éowyn swung her sword around swiftly, releasing it from his hold. She sheathed it.

"Women of this country learned long ago," her voice was serious. "Those without swords can still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain."

"What do you fear, my lady?"

"A cage," Éowyn responded. "To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire."

"You are a daughter of kings," Aragorn shook his head. "A shieldmaiden of Rohan. I do not think that would be your fate."

He turned and walked away. Maggie smiled at Éowyn.

"You said you are a soldier," the blonde woman looked at her thoughtfully. "I want to fight for my country. Will you help me?" Her voice lowered.

"You will fight," she said. "But not in this battle. I promise I will help you, when the time comes. I need your help this time. I want you to run the hospital."

"Hospital?" Éowyn asked, confused. "I'm not a healer."

"But you are a leader. A natural leader," Maggie told her. "I will need to be out, fighting with the others. I have weapons Saruman never dreamed of. And I have no time to teach others to wield them properly. You will be my proxy. On the road, you'll help me form a team of effective nurses. Even if all you can do is bring a man to a blanket and have someone sit with him while he dies."

Éowyn nodded. Maggie continued.

"Your uncle will want you to stay with the women and children in the caves. He will fear for you. But we're going to show him that women are useful for a hell of a lot more than knitting and popping out babies." Éowyn laughed. "I know he won't let you fight. We can get him to compromise. You'll be inside, safe, but doing something imperative at the same time. Will you help me?"

"I don't know how you'll manage to convince uncle," Éowyn replied uncertainly.

"Easy," Maggie said. "We'll make him think it's his idea. That's the first rule to dealing with men. You pretend they're in charge. But really, they're kind of dumb and easy to trick. Men might think they're the heads, but women? We're the neck. And we can turn their heads any bloody way we want. You in?"

"Yes," said Éowyn with conviction.

"Atta girl," Maggie replied, zipping her medical bag shut and shouldering her rifle. "Stick with me, and I'll take care of you. We'll show 'em, eh?" She clapped Éowyn on the shoulder as she went past. "And after Helm's Deep, I have a story for you."

Éowyn's eyes curiously followed the strange woman she seemed to be becoming fast friends with, as she mulled over what she had said.

...

Maggie met the fellowship at the gates. Gimli was seated atop a horse, Éowyn holding it's bridle.

"Would you like to ride, Maggie?" Boromir asked her, offering her his horse.

"Nah," she replied. "I've marched through a hot desert at high noon carrying ten times as much junk as I have on me now. I'll be fine."

"Can you not ride?" Legolas asked her, as the trail of people began to wind out of Edoras. He mounted his own horse, and everyone set off at a steady pace. Maggie walked beside Boromir.

"I can ride," Maggie grinned. "Oh, can I ever. Been a while. Learned on this old workhorse my grandfather had, this gunpowder grey thing named Dobbin. He was huge, but really old. Still had enough spirit to carry me around, but I was eight years old then and didn't weigh more than a sack of potatoes." She sighed wistfully. "Then there was Black Bess. She belonged to the neighbours, but they let me ride her whenever I wanted. Beautiful black mare, full of spirit and heart. I loved that horse. Haven't been on one since I went off to war, though."

"That's good to know," said Aragorn. "I imagine you will have to ride at some point. And it will be easier if you can handle a horse rather than having you ride pillion."

"No kidding," she replied. She turned to Gimli, who was talking to Éowyn.

"It's true," the dwarf said. "You don't see many Dwarf women. And in fact, they are so alike in voice in appearance, that they're often mistaken for Dwarf men."

"It's the beards," Aragorn stage-whispered, as Éowyn looked back at him, grinning.

"This, in turn, has given rise to the belief," Gimli continued. "That there are no Dwarf women, and that dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground," the group laughed, including Gimli. "Which is, of course, ridiculous." He threw up his hands, and his horse took off, throwing him to the ground. Éowyn rushed over to help him up.

"It's all right," Gimli bristled. "Nobody panic. That was deliberate. That was deliberate."

Aragorn, Boromir and Théoden rode side by side, Maggie walking beside them.

"I haven't seen my niece smile for a long time," he said wistfully. "She was a girl when they brought her father back dead. Cut down by orcs. She watched her mother succumb to grief. Then she was left alone, to tend a king in growing fear. Doomed to wait upon an old man who should have loved her as a father."

"She is incredibly strong, my lord," Maggie told the king, stepping beside his horse. "You can rely on her for much more than you can expect. There is a war coming - this I know. You will need her strength."

"Gandalf said you have the gift of some foresight," Théoden said. "And that your skills as a healer are also very keen."

"I am a healer," she told him. "But I am also a soldier. I will be out on the ramparts with you and your men, because I have very powerful weapons. However, I would like your permission, sir, to arrange a battlefield hospital when we arrive. Most of the arrangements can be made while we march. Any women skilled in healing will be of use, plus any able-bodied young woman who wants to help to carry injured men into the hospital. We'll place it well out of harm's way, but tending the wounded quickly can decrease casualties immensely. I was a war medic myself."

"I grant you permission," Théoden nodded. "Gandalf said he had great trust in your skills. His opinion is important to me."

"The only problem is, I need someone to be my eyes and ears in there," she said slowly. "I need someone with leadership skills, with the ability to command and make decisions, who will be respected. Do you know of someone who would be effective for this task?"

"Hmm," the king said thoughtfully. "Why not Éowyn herself? If you can promise she will be out of harm's way."

"I can," Maggie replied firmly. "Thank you, sir. That is a wonderful idea. Let me go and ask her, and see about making arrangements."

"Very well, my dear," Théoden replied. "I hope we can save some lives."

Maggie looked over her shoulder at Éowyn, who was pretending not to eavesdrop, and winked. She walked back over to the blonde woman, and the two made a great production of asking and accepting the position. Théoden smiled back at them, seeming to be pleased with this arrangement.

"Okay," Maggie said. "There's a few things we'll need done. One, some stretchers. Strong fabric, and poles about eight feet long. We can probably get these provisions in Helm's Deep. We can fold them over, though sewn will be better, if we can manage it. Then I need stretcher bearers - strong women who are used to heavy lifting, perhaps maids or laundresses - women who won't shirk at running out into the field after the fallen. I think four teams of two would be sufficient. Any women who are skilled at healing are most welcome, of course. Older women will be useful for boiling water and bringing bandages, as hygiene is of the utmost essence in treating wounds. Hmm. We'll make armbands for the stretcher bearers, so they'll be recognized in battle."

"This is quite a list," Éowyn chuckled.

"It is, but we'll make it work. Four stretchers, and eight strong women. When we take a break, we'll pick our girls and see if we can't find some white fabric and some paint."

"What do you want me to do?" Éowyn asked.

"Triage," Maggie replied. "Your job will be to direct everything. A man enters, you and the healers assess how bad he is. If he can be tended quickly and perhaps returned to the battlefield, that is priority - level one, if you will. If he is more heavily wounded, but likely to survive, that is second priority, to be tended when there are no level ones to tend. They're level two. Last are the men who aren't likely to survive. They're level three - make them comfortable, set a girl to sit with him and hold his hand, but do not use resources trying to heal a man who will not live." Éowyn nodded.

"This system seems wise," she said. "I think this might just work."

"Of course it will," Maggie patted her on the shoulder. "You're in charge."

...

They stopped for a break soon after. Maggie, with Éowyn's help, recruited her team of strong young ladies, who seemed eager to help, along with five women well skilled in healing, and several teenaged girls to serve as nurses. A few of the older women threw their hats into the ring, wishing to be of use, so Maggie explained how they could boil water, clean wounds, and cut bandages. Éowyn went off to prepare some food. Maggie was quite satisfied with her team, and using some of the red earth mixed with water and a piece of white cotton she had nicked off of the back of a wagon, she cut eight armbands and emblazoned them with a crude Red Cross. She brought them to her stretcher bearers, tying one on each of their upper arms.

"Here," she said, as she tied the first one on. "These will identify you to the soldiers. I will explain it to the men. If they see one of you and know of someone who needs tending, they can direct you. Now, I'm gonna make a makeshift stretcher and make sure you all can manage. Boromir!"

Boromir, who was milling around close by, walked over.

"Can you borrow me a couple of spears?"

He nodded, and walked off. He returned with two long spears. Maggie took her blanket from her bag, and laid the spears parallel on the ground, wrapping the fabric around the poles and tucking it in tightly.

"Okay," she said. "Boromir, lie on the ground."

"Why?" he asked, confused.

"You're going to play our injured man," she replied. He obeyed. Maggie demonstrated how to move a man by placing her hands under his arms and tugging, and then moving the rest of his body. She had all of the teams of girls shift his body onto and off of the stretcher.

"Very good," she said. "Now it's time to lift. One in front, one in back. Bend at your knees - like this - and lift only as high as the length of your arms. Don't bend down, you'll wreck your back. Lift with your knees."

"Whoa," Boromir flailed a bit as the girls lifted him with surprising ease.

"Take a few steps around. Quickly, girls," she clapped her hands. The first group took him in a circle around the camp, and the others did the same. Maggie rearranged the teams a bit, so the heights and strengths would be a bit more evenly matched and, satisfied, took her blanket back and asked Boromir to return their spears to their owners.

Maggie dismissed her group of impromptu paramedics, and headed over to the campfire, where Éowyn approached with a cauldron, ladle, and bowls.

"Gimli?" she asked, gesturing to the food.

"No, I couldn't," he said. "I really couldn't."

"I made some stew," she said to Aragorn. "It isn't much, but it's hot." She filled a bowl and handed it to him.

"Thank you," Aragorn said, tasting it. Maggie hid a snicker at the expression on his face. "It's... good."

"Really?" she said, her face lighting up. She turned to walk away. Maggie saw Aragorn move to pour the stew on the ground, but stopped as Éowyn turned back.

"My uncle told me a strange thing," she said. "He said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather. But he must be mistaken."

"King Théoden has a good memory," Aragorn replied. "He was only a small child at the time."

"Then you must be at least sixty," Éowyn said, puzzled. A blush spread across Aragorn's cheeks.

"Seventy?" she asked, incredulous. "But you cannot be eighty!"

"Eighty-seven," Aragorn mumbled, looking at the ground.

"You are one of the Dúnedain," she breathed, comprehension dawning. "A descendant of Númenor, blessed with long life. It was said that your race had passed into legend."

"There are few of us left," Aragorn told her. "The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago."

"I'm sorry," said Éowyn. "Please, eat."

He took a mouthful of the stew, and Maggie, feeling sorry for him, distracted Éowyn so he could toss it without hurting her feelings. Once she moved on, Maggie cracked a piece of lembas and passed it around amongst her companions.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see this again," Gimli grumbled. "But that brew smelled terrible. I miss the hobbits."

"I don't think Éowyn's skills lie in the culinary arts," Maggie agreed. "Her heart is in the right place. And I think she has a bit of a crush on you, Aragorn."

"Crush?" he looked confused.

"She liiiiiikes you," Maggie replied, in a sing-song voice. "She thinks you're handsome."

Aragorn blushed again, and Maggie laughed.

"I'm only teasing," Maggie said, and sat down next to Boromir on a rock. "I think you're handsome," she told him, ruffling his hair and making it stand on end. He gave her a gentle push off the rock, and everyone laughed at the incredulous look she gave him. "Why, you yellow-bellied little shit," she muttered, then deposited herself firmly on his lap. "Why do I put up with you?"

"Because you love me," he replied, kissing her cheek. "Or something."

"Yeah, or something," she retorted. He smiled at her, and held her closer. She lowered her voice. "You've been awfully quiet lately," Maggie said. "And what was that about another gift from Galadriel, eh?"

"I do not like to see the people of Rohan suffer," he replied, his voice barely a murmur. "It reminds me of the suffering of my own people, far from my aid. And the rest shall remain my own knowledge for now."

"Okay, keep your secrets," Maggie said nonchalantly. He smiled at her. "Now, kiss me, we're about to set off again."

He did so happily.

...

A/N: Up next, Helm's Deep. Getting exciting, I hope.

Last chapter's song: Is Somebody Singing? (International Space Station) by Cmdr. Chris Hadfield and Ed Robertson. Listen to it on YouTube, you won't regret it. Space jam!


	17. Where have all the good men gone?

...

A/N: And here, we get partway through Helm's Deep. A bit on the short side, but I wanted to post something.

Hopefully another will get done before the end of the weekend. :)

Any scientific or engineering errors are artistic licence. I've tried to research the medical mumbo jumbo and weaponry nonsense, but it not to my forte. :P

I got a lot of favourites and follows with the last chapter, which is delightful and I hope none of you are disappointed. You rule.

...

Chapter Seventeen - Where have all the good men gone?

...

The large group of travellers gathered up everything they'd used to stop for their break, and continued their walk. Maggie stayed close to Boromir and Aragorn, and Legolas also left his horse to walk on foot.

She looked at him in worry when she saw him stand on top of a small hill, looking out. Hama and another of the King's Guard, Gamling, rode past him, then swung around.

Maggie chambered a round in her handgun as a Warg, being ridden hard by an orc, appeared. It was too far out of range for her to hit, and it threw Hama off of his horse, killing him instantly.

"Wargs!" yelled Gamling. Maggie jogged over the hillside after Legolas, who shot the Warg dead with arrows as she took aim and fired at the rider, getting a clear shot through his head. Aragorn ran past her, sword drawn.

"A scout," Legolas spat. Aragorn turned and jogged to the people, being met partway by Théoden.

"What is it?" asked the king. "What do you see?"

"Warg!" Aragorn shouted, mounting his horse. "We're under attack! Get them out of here."

"All riders to the head of the column," Théoden commanded. Maggie followed Legolas up the hill, and drew a sharp breath when she saw the Wargs closing in. She took a knee with her rifle, and picked off a couple of them before they came too close for comfort. Hooves thundered around her, and suddenly she felt herself being grabbed by the arm and swung up on a horse.

"Boromir!" she exclaimed, surprised, and quickly recovered. Seated behind him, she wrapped one arm around his waist, swung her rifle over her shoulder, and drew her pistol with the other hand. She couldn't reach her pack from that position, but she had an extra clip in her pocket. She prayed she could reload without falling.

Boromir, meanwhile, was riding skillfully and cutting down anything that came near, handling the reins expertly with his left hand, and swinging his sword with his right, destroying Wargs in a frenzy. She heard a cry tear from his throat in anger as an Orc tried to stab her, which he parried with ease, thrusting his sword into the rider's eye.

Maggie emptied her clip trying to bring down the creatures and their riders, and managed to hit her mark despite jostling about on horseback. She ejected the clip, and looked down at her pocket.

She dug her thighs into the sides of the horse, and grabbed on to the back of Boromir's leather coat with her teeth. Quickly, she snatched the clip from her pocket, reloading, and grabbed him around the waist to steady herself. She started firing again. The harsh crack of gunfire was stunning the Wargs, which seemed to be helping the riders cut them down.

Suddenly, as she fired her last round into an Orc's ugly forehead, she looked around and realized the battle was over.

There were quite a few casualties, but less than she had honestly expected by at least half. They regrouped, and Maggie jumped down from the horse, her medkit slung across her shoulder.

"Help me look for the injured!" she shouted behind her.

"Where is Aragorn?" she heard Legolas yell. She looked around frantically, and realization dawned as she found him to be nowhere in sight.

She shook her head, and instead focused on tending the wounded. There were very few arrow wounds that hadn't been fatal, but there were a number of grazes and cuts from knives that needed to be looked at.

She looked out over the field of dead, as Théoden rode up to her.

"Get the wounded on horses. The wolves of Isengard will return. Leave the dead."

She nodded at him, and began to help the able-bodied riders lift men onto horses. She took note of which ones were the most injured, and dug in her medkit as she fell into step beside a horse, slowing it down as she walked. Each man in turn received a quick inspection, and at least a dressing for their wound. She didn't dare to try and stitch someone up on a horse, but her large package of butterfly strips got a good workout. She slathered them with antibiotic ointment, then would move onto the next, tending as she walked.

She heard Boromir calling her name. She turned around, and he was behind her, holding out his hand. He pulled her up onto his horse, and she rode behind him for a while, trying to catch her breath, before jumping down and continuing to walk, much to his protestations.

"I can walk," Maggie told him. "I want you to ride. You're still recovering. I'll be fine."

"Stubborn woman," he responded irritably.

Legolas rode up beside her as she marched on.

"Aragorn fell," he said in a pained voice.

"I know," she replied, quietly.

"Do you know of this?" he asked. "Do you know if he survived?"

She looked up at him, startled. "Yes."

"Thank the Valar!" the elf looked skyward. "I did not want to bother you while you were tending the wounded, but as I was watching you I realized that you might know."

"He'll come back," she replied. "A little wet and worse for the wear, but he'll be fine."

"Some good news, lass," Gimli put in.

Gamling rode up behind her then, with another horse's reins in his hands.

"For you, my lady," he said. She looked around and realized she was the only one still on foot. She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. "By order of the king. He belonged to one of the fallen. He is riderless now."

She mounted the horse with ease, a beautiful chestnut stallion with a white blaze on his forehead, and white socks. She tied a knot in the strap of her bag and strung it over the pommel.

"I don't know your name, Big Boy, but you remind me of Charismatic, who almost won the Triple Crown. He was a famous horse, a descendant of the great Secretariat. So I'll call you that for now," she murmured, leaning low over his neck and urging him on. She noticed several of the riders from Rohan admiring her instant connection with this horse, and she rode up next to Théoden at the head of the pack. In the distance, she could see Helm's Deep, and the string of people slowly entering it.

"We'll be there soon," she said. "And the sooner the better."

"I see we finally got a horse under you," the king said, smiling. "Legolas told me about Aragorn. Let us hope he reaches us in time." She nodded.

"He will. If there's one thing that man has, it's an impeccable sense of timing. Come on now, Charismatic," she chirruped to the horse, who leapt forward in a happy little trot.

"You've named him?" the king asked in surprise. Maggie chuckled.

"Sort of," she said. "I didn't know his name, so I named him after a famous horse from my world. Almost won the biggest title in horse racing, the Triple Crown, but in the third and final race, he pulled up lame. His rider jumped down and cradled his leg, broken in two places, and saved the life of his horse. Tragic story, really, because the rider himself died under dubious circumstances shortly after," she paused. "I don't know why, but that story always stuck with me. No one thought they would even take one race, the odds were 31-1 that he'd win the first, and much less all three. And he was the closest to getting the title in the past thirty years. He was from one of the noblest lines of horses, but he misbehaved a lot until they got him under the right man."

"It is a noble name for a noble horse," Théoden said thoughtfully. "He may keep it. And he is yours. A gift from my people, for your aid."

"Thank you, sir," she replied sincerely, patting the horse on the neck. "I think we'll make a good team."

...

"Make way for the King!" Gamling called out. "Make way for Théoden. Make way for the King!"

Théoden rode into Helm's Deep, escorted by the remaining members of the fellowship, and followed by the rest of the riders. Éowyn ran to them, and looked over the group.

"So few," she said. "So few of you have returned."

"Our people are safe," Théoden replied grimly. "We have paid for it with many lives."

"Lord Aragorn," Éowyn turned her eyes to Maggie, imploringly. "Where is he?"

"He fell," Gimli said shortly.

"He'll be back," Maggie glared at Gimli. "Mark my words."

"Draw all of our forces behind the wall," Théoden instructed. "Bar the fate. And set a watch on the surround."

"What of those who cannot fight, my lord?" Gamling asked. "The wo,en and children?"

"Get them into the caves. Saruman's arm will have grown long indeed if he thinks he can reach us here."

...

Maggie dismounted her horse, and handed him over to a stable boy, before finding Éowyn.

"We can waste no time setting up the hospital," Maggie said. "We're going to set it up in a room in the keep, in case they somehow breach the wall."

"Good idea," Éowyn said. She stopped one of the women walking past, and instructed her to gather her force of nurses and healers.

"Let's see if we can't get some poles and fabric," Maggie said. "Surely you have stores around somewhere?"

"Follow me," the blonde woman replied, and led her through the narrow streets. She opened one of the rooms that had been laid in with a variety of provisions, and inside they found a cart and a saw, which they pillaged for poles, as well as some heavy cotton canvas. Maggie stopped by a barrel of white powder, and she peered into it.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Do not touch that," Éowyn told her. "It can burn your skin. It is used for plaster-making, mixed with other materials. It comes from burning a type of stone."

"Calcium oxide," Maggie breathed. "Quicklime! We're taking this too. Get some men to help us with it! I want as many empty bottles and jars as you can find."

Éowyn looked at her, puzzled.

"It burns!" she waved her arms in emphasis. "Caustic powder, in bottles, to be smashed on the heads of our enemies? And it's worse when mixed with water."

A smile of comprehension dawned on Éowyn's face.

"I have a feeling we're gonna get a little help from the gods in the way of rain," Maggie grinned at her. "Come on, let's go!"

...

Soon, Maggie was sequestered in a great hall with Éowyn and her group of nurses. They created straw pallets to lay the men on, covered with clean sheets. A fire was roaring in the giant hearth at the end of the hall, with several kettles and cauldrons of water ready to be put to boil as needed. The men had rolled in several extra barrels, and Maggie had put a few to work outside filling bottles with quicklime, wearing heavy gloves, handkerchiefs over their faces, and using funnels she'd fashioned out of paper. They corked the bottles and set them along the inside of the wall, explaining their purpose as they walked along.

Maggie looked up from where she was showing some older women how to stitch the stretchers along the poles to see Boromir striding in, wearing armour, and carrying a chainmail shirt.

"Put this on," he told her. "If you're coming out with us, I want you wearing this."

"No," Maggie shook her head. "I'll be hidden from sight. I found the perfect rooftop, just behind a chimney. I'm going to set up there with my rifle and pick off those bloody creatures before they can get in."

"I'd feel more comfortable if you wore it," Boromir shifted from foot to foot. "I don't want to risk you. I'd rather you stay in the hospital, in fact."

"Not a chance in hell," Maggie growled. "Listen, speed is what I have to my advantage. If I'm wearing ten pounds of bloody chainmail, I'm not going to be able to move fast enough for what I need to do." She sighed, as he frowned at her. "Listen, see if you can find some leather armour. I'll wear that. I'll be at enough of a distance that they can't get me with arrows, and if I come down and get grazed by a sword, it will protect me enough. Deal?"

"Deal," he replied. "I heard about this bottle trick you've come up with. How did you think of it?"

"I had to learn chemistry to become a medic," she grinned. "I can stir up all kinds of destructive shit with the right ingredients."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" he planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be back shortly. But if I cannot find leather armour, you are wearing this, no buts." Maggie rolled her eyes at his retreating back, and heard Éowyn chuckle over her shoulder.

She turned back to the blonde woman, and began to unpack certain items from her Elvish stores in her medical kit, including various salves and disinfectants for wounds. She also brought out soap - and gathered everyone around for a lecture on hygiene, about washing hands between every patient, and it being necessary to disinfect wounds. The five healers agreed with her, so Maggie established the chain of command and triage system. Some of the women were cutting clean linen into strips for bandages, others were preparing food and beds.

Maggie looked at the hospital with pride, and smiled at Éowyn.

"I'm very glad to have you in charge of this," she told her, sitting down to organize what she would take with her onto the roof. Éowyn smiled back, and headed off to supervise some of the arrangements.

Maggie emptied her medical bag into a burlap sack, and stuffed her handgun and ammo in there as well. Into her medical bag, she put her water bottle, all of her remaining rifle ammunition, her Swiss Army knife, her flashlight, the crossbow and bolts, and some very basic medical supplies - gloves, antibiotic ointment, disinfectant, scissors, sterile needle and thread, butterfly strips, and some gauze. She looked in the sack, and pulled out one of the few remaining pieces of lembas, and tucked it down into the side pocket. The burlap sack, she tied shut, and had Éowyn store it for her.

Boromir returned, looking a bit pale. Maggie swung her rifle over her shoulder, and walked over to him. He held out a hardened black leather jerkin, which Maggie pulled on over her sweatshirt and laced up at the front.

"What's wrong?" she murmured.

"Aragorn has returned," he replied. "This army - most of the men are not soldiers. They are farmers, merchants, they've never seen war, not like this. Some are barely more than children, some are old men. And the enemy marches on the gates..."

"Don't worry," Maggie put her hand on his cheek, and smiled at him. "Haldir is coming."

"Haldir?" Boromir looked at her in wonder. A horn sounded from outside, and Maggie grinned.

"Let's go out to meet them," Maggie replied, kissing him gently.

...

"Open the gate!" one of the soldiers yelled. As the gates opened, Haldir, clad in golden armour, walked toward the king, who was descending the steps.

"How is this possible?" asked Théoden, incredulous.

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell," Haldir bowed. "An alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honour that allegiance." He saw Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli rush down the steps, followed by Boromir and Maggie, and smiled. Aragorn ran directly to Haldir, and hugged him tight.

"You are most welcome," he said. Haldir looked uncomfortable, and patted him on the back. As Aragorn released the elf, Maggie jumped on him.

"Haldir!" she cried. "I knew you'd come."

"The Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond insisted," he smiled at her. "We are proud to fight alongside Men once more."

"Stay safe," she hugged him again, and kissed him on the cheek, savouring that moment, knowing it might be the last time she saw him alive.

"You as well," he replied. He looked up and met Boromir's eyes. "I'm glad to see you are still standing."

"He'd better still be standing tomorrow," Maggie growled. "Or I'll kill him myself."

The group laughed.

"It is time to take our positions," Aragorn said. "Maggie, where will you be?"

Maggie turned, and pointed to a roof of a stone structure, with a wide chimney sticking up out of it.

"I'll be there. Plenty of cover, and I'll be well out of the way of Orc arrows. So I can cover you lot from on high." She grinned. "Make sure those bottles get used."

"Bottles?" Haldir looked at her in confusion.

"Quicklime," Legolas said. "The clouds are rolling in. Mixed with water? That will burn those Uruk-hai instantly."

Haldir looked impressed.

"So, yeah, maybe warn your elf army not to drink out of them or kick them over or anything," Maggie said. Haldir nodded. "Right, I'm off." She turned, gave Boromir a passionate, ridiculous kiss, which received a whoop or two from the Rohan army, and she took off jogging.

"That girl is something else," Aragorn shook his head, laughing.

"That she is," replied Théoden. "And yet between her and your army of Elves, we might just win this battle."

...

Maggie stood on the edge of a rain barrel and swung herself up onto a second storey stone windowsill. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the edge of the roof, and scrambled over it. She took a running leap, and landed on the roof of a building across a narrow alley. She climbed up onto another windowsill, scaled a roughly-hewn stone wall, and swung herself up onto her roof. She ducked behind the chimney, and pulled off her bag, taking out her ammunition, wrapping them in the remnants of one of her well-travelled grocery bags to keep the rain off. She attached the scope to her rifle, and lay on her stomach, putting the butt against her shoulder. She looked through the scope, and smiled.

Perfect.

...

Down on the ramparts, Boromir stood beside Théoden. Aragorn was helping Haldir command the Elvish archers, so Boromir set himself beside the king of Rohan, who seemed pleased to have his company.

He looked over the stone wall to see the Uruk-hai stamping their spears on the ground and beating on their chest. Suddenly, one of Maggie's songs came into his head.

"We will, we will rock you," he sang to himself, and smiled. Théoden gave him a queer look, and Boromir returned a mysterious smile, then turned to look up where Maggie would be. He could see a shadowy form, little more than a lump, behind the chimney.

It comforted him to know she was watching over him.

...

The rain began to pour down. Maggie pulled her hat down low over her head, and huddled closer to the chimney. In her head, she started to recite the Lord's Prayer - she wasn't religious, but it was something her commanding officer used to do before a potential attack, and for some reason, reciting it always quieted her nerves. And it wouldn't hurt, if some higher power was listening. She heard the rain ping off of the men's armour and helmets, and could hear it spattering on the roof around her.

Suddenly, an arrow fired from the ramparts. Maggie heard Aragorn shout an Elvish command, and there was a sudden silence.

Maggie picked her mark, a big Uruk who looked like he was some kind of commander, and pulled her trigger.

At the sound of the gunshot streaking through the air, hitting it's mark perfectly and dropping the Uruk-hai instantly, Aragorn gave the order to fire, followed by Théoden. All of the unskilled soldiers suddenly threw bottles over the ramparts, crashing down on the helmets of the Uruk-hai below, as their archer companions rained down arrows.

Maggie smiled to herself as she heard screams of pain, as shards of glass embedded themselves into the Uruks' skin, and the powder mixed with water and began to burn and blind them. Aragorn ordered another volley of arrows, and Maggie kept a close eye on the Uruks closest to the wall, picking off the ones with the ladders, slowing them down. She also kept looking frantically at Haldir, and watched Boromir as well, even though they were hard to pick out in the crowd.

Suddenly, she saw the Uruk-hai carrying the torch to light the bomb placed in the culvert running, full tilt.

"Fuck," she said, taking aim.

...

A/N: Does the wall blow up? Does Haldir survive? How fares Éowyn on the hospital front? Tune in next time, different bat-time, same bat-channel.

On Maggie's horse being named Charismatic - I have a family connection to Chris Antley, so I love that horse. I remember watching the Belmont Stakes with my heart in my throat. I couldn't resist a little shout out.

Last chapter's song: La Vie Bohème from Rent :)


	18. Each breath has a thunderous sound

...

A/N: Had some time to write today while sitting around my grandma's apartment. So here we go. :)

Everyone who reads this: You rule. Srsly.

Borys: I always hear 'Chariots of Fire' in my head when I see the Uruk runner.

...

Chapter Eighteen - Each breath that you take has a thunderous sound

...

Maggie held her breath and said a silent prayer as she fingered the trigger. She heard Aragorn's shout over the din. She saw two arrows released by Legolas hit the runner, and she squeezed her finger, feeling the kickback of the rifle against her soldier.

Her aim was true. Right through the Uruk's head.

"Boom, headshot," she murmured, in a vaguely Australian accent.

He fell, the torch rolling out of his hand. She knew, though, that it would be a matter of moments before they tried again. She hoped it was enough time for Aragorn to get the men down off of the ramparts.

She kept aiming and firing, usually taking chest shots because of the distance, but her ammunition stores were running low. She stuck her hand in the bag. One clip.

She looked over the side of the roof and down at the din. Aragorn cleared the men off of the wall just in time for the Uruks to bring another torch and bomb it open. They scrambled inside like a bunch of spiders, and Maggie picked off a couple before searching for Haldir, reloading her rifle for the last time.

She spotted him, his golden armour gleaming in the moonlight, and heard Aragorn screaming in Elvish, Théoden yelling to brace the gate and fall back to the keep. An Uruk approached Haldir, brandishing a knife.

"Not today!" Maggie said, shooting the Uruk's shoulder right as he jerked the knife forward. He managed to embed it in Haldir's abdomen, as she squeezed off another two rounds to bring him down. She shot down the Uruks around him as she saw Aragorn run to him and Haldir fall to his knees, bringing his hand to his stomach, and looking at the blood in wonder. Maggie fired her last round, and dropped her rifle. She grabbed instead her bag, and pulled out the crossbow, loading it.

She leapt down off of the roof, rolling her landing onto the lower roof. She clambered down, and jogged across to where Aragorn was directing two of her stretcher bearers to lift Haldir.

"How is he?" she asked as she ran up behind him.

"Maggie!" he cried. "Thank the Valar! We're falling back to the keep. Go with Haldir. Your skills are needed."

"Where is Boromir?" she asked, running alongside the stretcher, unbuckling the straps of Haldir's armour as they went.

"Last I saw him, he was at Théoden's side. He should be inside now."

"God keep him safe," she murmured. They were admitted into the keep, the Uruks kept at bay with a volley of arrows from the Elvish army. She turned her focus to Haldir, as she instructed the stretcher bearers to place him on a bed. She knelt beside him immediately as a nurse ran up with a bowl of hot water and clean cloths. Maggie washed her hands and pulled on gloves.

"Haldir?" Maggie asked, pulling off his breastplate. "You still with me?"

"Mmm," Haldir responded, his eyes rolling back in his head. He murmured something in Elvish, his head lolling to the side.

"Not good," Maggie murmured, snipping his tunic open. There was a deep gash in his side, ending in a stab wound, which was bleeding profusely. She immediately grabbed one of the clean cloths, and pressed it against the wound, putting pressure on with one hand as she pulled his tunic to her nose. The copper scent of blood filled her nostrils, but nothing else. She sighed in relief. His internal organs likely weren't punctured, then. The girl began mopping his face with cool cloths as Maggie worked, and she smiled at her.

"I hope all is well?" Maggie asked.

"We've lost many," the girl replied. "But we have saved many, too." Maggie nodded, and inspected the cut once more. A fresh spurt of blood came forth.

"Fuck," murmured Maggie. "Emergency measures. What is your name?"

"Uratte," the girl said. Maggie handed her a scalpel.

"Uratte, listen closely," she said. "I need you to go and put this in the hottest part of the coals of the fire for a couple of moments. Wrap your hand before taking it out. Brush some coals into a bowl, then put this knife in the bowl. Bring it to me immediately. I have to burn the blood vessels to stop the flow of blood, or he'll bleed to death."

"Yes, milady," the girl grabbed the scalpel and ran to the fire. Maggie put pressure on in the meantime, and took Haldir's pulse. It was weaker than she'd like, but it was there. She began murmuring prayers under her breath, keeping herself calm.

Uratte returned with the knife in a bowl of embers, with a cloth protecting her hands. Maggie grasped the scalpel with a cloth, and applied it urgently to the blood vessels inside the wound. Haldir screamed in pain, flailing.

"Uratte, hold his arms! Sit on him if you have to," Maggie instructed. The girl lay across the elf's chest, putting her weight on him to stop him from flailing. Maggie cauterized the other blood vessel, and then the scalpel was too cool to do anything else. Haldir moaned in agony. "I know, honey," Maggie soothed. "I know."

She sent Uratte to Éowyn to fetch the rest of her medical supplies. The girl returned with a sack. Maggie filled a needle with lidocaine, and started to inject it in a few places around the wound. She filled another needle with her only dose of epinephrine, and injected it into a vein in his arm, hoping it would act as a vasoconstrictor and slow his bleeding, and maybe also dull the pain.

She took out her antibiotic ointment and a sterile needle. She changed her gloves, and began to stitch his wound shut. Uratte watched with interest, while mopping the sweat from Haldir's head. She looked down at the elf in fascination as he murmured in his own language. His eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a sharp breath.

"Pretty, aren't they?" Maggie smiled at her. Uratte blushed, and lowered her eyes. Maggie chuckled, and snipped off the thread. She spread antibiotic ointment on the area, and bandaged it with gauze. She took a damp cloth and mopped off the blood and dirt, cleaning him up. She checked his heartbeat and breathing, and his blood pressure. Both were surprisingly good, but his temperature was already high. Maggie dug worriedly in her bag, and came up with a bottle of amoxicillin. She knew the antibiotics would be precious, and she only had enough for two courses.

She shook Haldir's shoulder. He murmured again, but his eyelids fluttered open. He focused on her with confusion, taking a moment to recognize her.

"Maggie?" he rasped. The act of talking clearly pained him, and he winced.

"Shh," Maggie chided. "You were wounded. An infection might be setting in. I need you to swallow this, with some water. I'd empty the capsule into something, but it would be incredibly bitter that way. Can you do that for me?" Haldir nodded. "Uratte, help me prop him up, sit behind him and pull him up against you." The girl blushed again, but did as she was told, kneeling behind the elf and propping him up. He groaned in pain, his hand going to his side.

Maggie took a cup of water from the bedside table, and put the pill between his lips, followed by the cup. He drank deeply, and swallowed.

"Now," she said. "Your job is to keep it down. Uratte, can you bring him an infusion of the ginger root to drink, and then you stay with him? I have to get back out there. Find me if anything changes." Uratte nodded and rushed off, returning with a steaming mug. Maggie prepared to leave as the young girl knelt by the pallet, lifting his head with one hand and helping him to sip the warm drink with the other.

Maggie pulled her handgun from her bag, and shoved three of her remaining seven clips into her pocket. She dropped her bag, and ran to the hall of the keep as the sun began to rise outside.

...

"The fortress is taken," Théoden was saying as Maggie approached. "It is over."

"You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it. They still defend it. They have died defending it!" Aragorn carried another barricade to the door, angrily shouting back at Théoden. The sound of the battering ram against the doors shook the entire building. They could hear the cries of the women and children from the caves.

"Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" Aragorn asked. Théoden didn't answer, looking at the floor. "Is there no other way?"

"There is one passage," Gamling said. "It leads into the mountains. But they will not get far. The Uruk-hai are too many."

"Tell the women and children to make for the mountain pass!" Aragorn told Gamling. "And barricade the entrance!"

"Gamling!" Maggie called after him. "Fetch Éowyn. Tell her to lead them. Tell her I said so. She shall listen. Tell her that a girl named Uratte will be left in charge of the hospital." Gamling nodded, and jogged off. Maggie walked up to Boromir, and he embraced her silently, lines of worry etched on his face.

"So much death," said Théoden, dreamily. "What can Men do against such reckless hate?"

"Ride out with me," Aragorn said. "Ride out and meet them."

"For death and glory," Théoden replied.

"For Rohan," Aragorn insisted. "For your people."

"The sun is rising," Gimli put in. Aragorn walked to the window and looked out.

"Yes," Théoden said. "Yes. The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the deep. One last time."

"Yes!" Gimli agreed, and left to sound the horn.

"Let this be the hour when we draw swords together," Théoden said, placing his hand on Aragorn's shoulder. He looked at Boromir and Maggie as the sound of the horn boomed around them. "Fell deeds, awake. Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red dawn." He mounted his horse, followed by the others around them. Maggie patted Charismatic, and leaned low over his neck.

"Forth Eorlingas!" Théoden shouted. The group galloped forward through the masses of Uruk-hai, swords clashing against armour. Maggie held the reins in one hand as she fired her gun. They reached the causeway, and a sudden white light rose in the west.

"Gandalf!" she heard Aragorn breathe.

Maggie let out a war-whoop as the bright light descended the hill, followed by the Riders of Rohan.

"This is it!" she screamed to Boromir, who was riding at her shoulder. "It's now or never!"

They rode forward into the surge.

And the battle was won.

...

After the battle, Maggie returned to the hospital to check on Haldir and the others. She found Uratte shouting orders with authority, and walked in the doors at the same time as Éowyn.

"I questioned your leaving her in charge," Éowyn murmured. "But she has accomplished much." Maggie smiled at her, and began her rounds.

She checked on Haldir first. He was awake, and a lot more clearheaded than he had been. He had a terrible headache, for which she prescribed two aspirin, but the wound was not bleeding, and he seemed like he would recover.

She took her equipment and walked around, checking heart rates, blood pressure, wounds and fevers. She found that the healers had done a pretty good job, though she knew a handful of the men were going to be lost, either from blood loss or because the infection was set too deep to remove. She turned to Éowyn, smiling with pride.

"I'd say we saved a good two hundred," she said, hugging the blonde woman. "Most of the elves were killed with clean hits, but the few that are in here have been tended with as much care as the men of Rohan."

"The girls seem to like the elves," Éowyn winked conspiratorially.

"They're pretty," Maggie repeated, laughing. "But our job is just beginning. Now we have to figure out how to feed this army."

"Some of the women from the caves are working on that," Éowyn told her. "Then the men outside will need rest."

"Yes," Maggie replied. "I'm just settling into my second wind, but once I crash, I'm going to be exhausted. And I spent most of the night lying on my stomach, not standing."

"I don't think we'd have done so well without you," Éowyn told her. "So many of the injured would have died on the battlefield."

"Without you and the girls, we'd have been nowhere. They all worked extremely hard and should be commended. I think I'll speak to your uncle about some kind of order of merit for these women, to recognize their courage and valour."

"He will agree to that," Éowyn smiled. "I'll make sure of it."

"Good," Maggie replied. "Now, let's get that food distributed, and see if we can get some sleep."

The two women parted, and set to work.

...

A/N: Another short one, but we've reached the end of the battle.

Last chapter's song: Holding out for a hero by Bonnie Tyler - guessed by horseyyay.


	19. After a hurricane comes a rainbow

...

A/N: And now we reach The Return of the King. Merry and Pippin come back to join some fun, more drinking and shenanigans ensue. Who doesn't love shenanigans?

I apologize for how long it took to get this out. Everyone in my household (including my ailing grandmother) came down with a nasty case of gastroenteritis, so I've either been taking care of others, or lying on the bathroom floor in misery. Not particularly good for creativity!

Hello to my new readers! I got a bunch of notifications this week, good to have you aboard. Hope you enjoy. To the ones who've stuck by, good to have you back, ya'll rock.

A few people have asked in PMs/reviews who, if anyone, Maggie is based on. She's actually based on a combination of my little brother (who is in the military and enjoys riding horses) and his best friend (who is a doctor, a former champion gymnast, still a hockey and soccer player, a singer/pianist/guitarist, and overall incredibly talented girl). Her appearance is plain old made up. She's named after my neighbour's dog, and I stole the last name from other neighbours down the street. I suck at coming up with names, so I used generators for various Rohirrim/Elvish minor characters.

I'm kind of a magpie when it comes to my writing, I thieve lines from movies and books and references wherever I can, even if no one gets them but me, I get some kind of secret joy from sneaking them in. When someone points one out in a review I get dorkily excited.

Enough babbling, more story.

...

Chapter Nineteen - After a hurricane comes a rainbow

...

The men got settled in for a good night's sleep, after being fed by Éowyn's well-organized team. The next day, those who were able would begin their trek back to Edoras.

Maggie made herself comfortable in a corner of the hospital room with her blanket, declaring herself 'on call' and setting a team of nursing girls to switch off throughout the night so everyone could get some sleep.

She was, surprisingly, not woken during the night. The girls had dealt efficiently and swiftly with all manner of minor emergencies and bodily fluids, much to their credit. Maggie changed into her clean pair of jeans, after giving herself a hobo bath from a bowl of water, and hooked her stethoscope over her neck to begin her rounds.

She scored some paper and made a makeshift clipboard, writing down the names and vitals of all of the men as she went along the rows of pallets, numbering them as she went. She divided them up into three categories - fit to travel by horse, fit to travel by cart, and unfit to travel. She was impressed that more than half of the men were well within the first category - their wounds had been stitched shut by expert seamstresses, and the Elvish salves applied tenderly and swiftly, preventing infection. Her small section of elves - including Haldir - fared a little worse. She didn't know if it was due to their position on the battlefield - more likely to be cut down by arrows than slashed with swords - but most of them were in pretty rough shape. A couple of them she cleared for cart travel, but she knew that many of the men would have to stay in Helm's Deep to recover.

She summoned Uratte, who was changing dressings, and sat down with her by the fire.

"Éowyn and I will have to return to Edoras soon," Maggie said. "I need to leave some of you behind, because some of these men will not be fit for travel. We have almost a hundred patients, and I expect about thirty won't be ready to move for at least two weeks." Uratte nodded, looking around the room.

"What does that have to do with me?" the girl asked.

"I want to leave you in charge as administrator. You did an excellent job in Éowyn's absence, and I think with a small team of nurses and two healers, plus a contingent of guards, you'll manage to get everyone in top shape in no time."

"Are you sure?" Uratte asked. Maggie nodded.

"You have a healer's touch," Maggie said, taking the girl's hands in her own. "The ability to make your patients feel comfortable and comforted, and the ability to keep things running smoothly. I'll organize it, all you have to do is keep the wheels turning."

"Very well," Uratte lifted her head, her chin set in a determined way.

...

Maggie headed outside, where the Rohirrim, the members of the fellowship, and the few able-bodied elves who remained were piling bodies for either burning (Uruk-hai) or mass burial (men and elves).

"We shall ride out for Isengard today," Gandalf told her. Maggie nodded.

"I will stay here and help Éowyn oversee the preparations to return to Edoras. My medical skills are needed," Maggie explained. Théoden nodded.

"What of transporting the wounded?" he asked.

"Well, I reckon a little less than fifty of the men can get up on a horse to make the ride back to Edoras, it isn't terribly far. Another twenty or so we can transport in carts - everyone who is able-bodied will walk. The last will stay here to recover, under the charge of a few of your healers and some nurses," Maggie said. "Can you leave some men behind to guard them?"

"That can be arranged," said Théoden. Another man appeared at his shoulder, wbrown loo, shaggy blond hair. "I do not believe you have met my nephew. This is Éomer."

"I saw you on the battlefield," Maggie stretched out her hand for his. He took it tentatively, and she shook it firmly. "Maggie Campbell."

"My uncle and your friends have been regaling me with tales of your exploits," said Éomer. "It seems you have quite the reputation as a soldier and a healer both. And somewhat of a bard."

"I wouldn't call myself a bard," Maggie told him, grinning. "It's just no one here has heard the stories and songs I grew up with. A new audience works wonders."

"Perhaps when we return to Edoras you will indulge us," Éomer said.

"We should leave for Isengard," Aragorn interjected. Maggie nodded. She walked up to Boromir and grasped him by the face, pulling him down for a rather steamy kiss. He turned red under the stares of his comrades, and Maggie snickered to herself.

"Be safe, you," she said, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'll arrange for us to have a room together at Edoras." She nipped his ear, and turned to sashay away. "Bye, boys!"

Boromir watched her leave, her hips swaying enticingly, in a slight bit of a daze, until Legolas gave him a thump on the back.

"Come on, now," Legolas said, grinning. "You lovesick fool."

Everyone laughed, and began to prepare to leave.

...

Maggie took her lunch break sitting on a low stool at Haldir's bedside. The elf was still pale - even for an elf - but seemed to be faring well on the dose of antibiotics.

Haldir was sitting up, propped up on several pillows. He was tentatively eating a bowl of broth, as the antibiotics seemed to make him nauseated. Maggie had prescribed ginger tea to help with the nausea, but she didn't want to push his stomach.

"Where have the rest of the fellowship gone?" the elf asked, between sips of soup.

"To Isengard."

Haldir gave her a confused look.

"Merry and Pippin were taken there, mistaken for Frodo and Sam. They marched on Isengard with the last of the Ents, and now the others have gone to fetch them - and drive out the last of Saruman's influence in Isengard," Maggie explained. Haldir nodded. "We'll meet up with them in Edoras."

"Edoras," Haldir said absently. "When shall I return home? There are not many elves who remain here."

"Once you're healthy enough to return home," Maggie told him. "I'm not sending you back to the Lady of the Wood stitched from rib to navel and barely able to hold down a few mouthfuls of soup." She handed him a mug of tea. "She'd have my head."

Haldir chuckled slightly, and winced. "Ow."

"Don't do that, then," Maggie chided. He smiled at her gently.

"It is comforting to have someone I know nearby," Haldir said. "Thank you, Maggie. You have saved my life."

"Pfft," Maggie responded. "You saved us, without your army of elves? We'd have been eaten for breakfast by those Uruk-hai."

Haldir took a sip of his tea, and leaned back on the pillows.

"Will you sing a song for me?" he asked quietly. "Perhaps the one about the two trees?"

"Of course," Maggie said, swallowing a bit of water. Haldir smiled in response. She softly sang it for him, and he closed his eyes.

"It reminds me of home," he said. "Even though it isn't in Elvish."

"I don't know any Elvish songs, unfortunately," Maggie gave him a wry grin. "And I'd better get back to my rounds. We're leaving in the morning, so I need to make sure that everyone who is supposed to return to Edoras with us is ready, and everyone who isn't is settled in comfortably."

"Where do I fit in?" Haldir asked.

"You're coming to Edoras. We've commandeered a couple of carts to transport some of you. Don't look at me like that, you are not getting on a horse. I swear, you're almost as stubborn as Boromir. He almost goes and dies on me and the next day wants to go hunting." She gave him a gentle swat with her wad of paperwork. "Now, you behave. I'll be back later."

...

Éowyn helped Maggie organize the return to Edoras. Several of the riders gave up their horses for the injured. They made up beds in the bottom of carts and wagons using grass cut from the fields around Helm's Deep, and covered in plain sheets. The able-bodied men bore the injured to the carts on stretchers, and they began the journey home.

Maggie walked Charismatic beside the cart containing Haldir and four other elves. They mostly talked amongst themselves in their own language, wincing when the cart jostled too much. Éowyn rode at the head of the party, on a white horse. The horses carrying the injured were led by men on foot, and they took frequent breaks.

It was nearly dark when Edoras finally appeared on the horizon, dark and foreboding. They decided to press on, the promise of hot food and warm beds very much enticing. The injured bore the trip bravely, without much complaint, knowing how lucky they were to be both alive and on their way home.

Most of the men had homes and wives to go to on arrival, so Maggie discharged them into their care on arrival, with strict instructions to come to the hall and fetch her should any help be needed. The elves, of which there were a little more than half a dozen, were given quarters in the barracks where the hall guards usually stayed.

Éowyn arranged for a private chamber for Maggie, something for which she was very thankful. Éowyn also had the kitchen staff send her hot water and a tub to bathe in, and a clean dress. Maggie sent her dirty clothes off to the laundry, to be tended in the morning.

Maggie sank into the sheet-lined wooden tub with a sigh. Nothing ever felt better than washing off several days of war-grime, something she'd come to appreciate in the dusty years in Afghanistan. She shaved, washed her hair, and scrubbed her skin until it gleamed. She stood, and sluiced water from a bucket she'd kept on reserve over her body, rinsing off the last of the dirt. She wrapped herself in a bath sheet, whistling to herself. She had just tugged the dress over her head when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Maggie said. Haldir entered, supported at the elbow by one of the serving men. "What are you doing out of bed, you idiot?"

"I thought I'd come to share a meal with my saviour," he grinned. "And it will do me no good to lie around all the time."

"Maybe not, but it's been a rough day on the road," Maggie scolded. "Sit down!" She guided him into an empty chair, and sat across from him. The serving man put a basket on the table, bowed, and left, taking the tub of dirty water with him.

"Tell me more about what the hobbits are doing," Haldir smiled at her as he pulled out some bread, cheese, cold meat, and some fresh fruit and vegetables.

"Well, Frodo and Sam are travelling with Gollum, who is leading them into Mordor as we speak. Their road is dangerous, and they will have little in the way of rest or comfort until they complete their quest," Maggie sighed. "Which makes me feel guilty for sitting here enjoying comforts like a hot bath, fresh food, and a warm bed."

"What you have done is important, as well," Haldir said, meeting her gaze and holding it. "You have reduced the casualties at Helm's Deep by a significant number. You have saved my life, and Boromir's. Do not look at me like that, Lady Galadriel told me that you knew of his impending death and intended to prevent it. And you did. Enjoy the comforts while you can."

"You are much wiser than you let on," Maggie muttered, biting into a crust of bread.

"Well," Haldir gave her a smug grin. "I have been around for several centuries more than you."

"If you weren't injured, I'd kick you in your smug Elvish shins," she joked, waving a carrot at him threateningly. He laughed, and winced a bit. Her features softened in concern. "Let me take a look at that."

"Finish your dinner first," Haldir told her. She knew he wouldn't let her look at his injuries unless she obeyed, so she bit into the carrot and slumped back in her chair. He ate little, but more than he had in Edoras.

"How are the other elves doing?" she asked.

"Faring well, though they miss home. I think they are a bit upset at having had to leave some of our brethren behind at Helm's Deep to recover," Haldir sighed. "Though they will not confide in me about that. I think they believe that I will not understand because I am their Captain."

"Hard to be the boss, isn't it?" Maggie smiled at him. "All of the responsibilities, but then they put you on a pedestal and you can't get back down. It's pretty lonely up there."

"I wish there were more I could do," Haldir said. "Even dining with them is difficult, because they fall silent around me. They feel like they cannot be themselves. Which is partly why I'm here. I wanted them to feel free to complain about whatever they so chose to, without feeling like they'd receive a scolding from me for doing so."

"I remember when I first attained rank," Maggie grinned. "The boys wouldn't let me live it down. I didn't have a university education - which was required to become a medical officer - so most of my training was under other medical officers. I wasn't a commissioned officer, but as soon as you have rank, you can pull rank, and the others know it, too. You almost need to find new friends. The officers were always separated from us, which is pretty important in a military hierarchy. You have to have respect for those in authority, but in a way, it means they can't relax around you, or you around them."

"My closest friends are my brothers, and even Lord Celeborn," Haldir said. "As Marchwarden I'm expected to keep order amongst the guards on the borders. Which is, in essence, the highest rank in the border guards, and why I was selected to captain this army. I take my orders directly from Lord Celeborn."

"You'd definitely outrank me," Maggie chuckled. "I made more friends when I came back from the war. The boys at the firehouse are like brothers, and I got a lot of ribbing for being the only girl, but because I'm one of the emergency medical team, I'm not really 'one of them' either. There's six other medics, so we mostly hang out together. We're always two on duty, day and night. Twelve hours a shift. And when you're a medic, it's a lot like being a guard - sitting around waiting for something to happen."

"Guarding the borders is often tiresome," Haldir admitted. "I took the chance to lead our army because I felt a change of pace would be nice."

"And where did that get you?" Maggie, grinning, finished eating. "You got your dumb ass shot." Haldir gave her a haughty, offended look, and she laughed. "Let me get my medical kit."

She fetched her bag, and took his vital signs. His heart rate and blood pressure were good, so she lifted his shirt and, slipping on a glove, prodded the wound. She changed the dressing, but it was not weeping pus, though it was still a bit too warm to the touch. She hoped the antibiotics would take care of that.

"You're still taking the pills I gave you?" Maggie asked. Haldir nodded. "Good. I think we headed off a bad infection, but I want you to keep taking them until they're all gone, just to be sure. Since you've never been exposed to antibiotics, they should be really effective on you. In my world, so many people have taken them unnecessarily that they're sometimes ineffective against infection."

"I never asked you what is in these 'antibiotics'," Haldir said. "Do I want to know?"

"It's actually an isolation of a form of mould, called penicillin, similar to what's used to ferment certain cheeses," Maggie explained. "A man discovered that it has antibacterial effects - and you'll remember what I told you about bacteria versus viruses. Infections can be cured by penicillin - but not viruses, like the common cold."

"I wonder if the healing elves could somehow benefit from this knowledge," Haldir mused.

"They've already created certain antibacterial salves, from things like honey and certain herbs," Maggie said. "But there are so many different strains of the mould, and to be honest, I couldn't tell you which one to use. We basically can break down substances like herbs into individual parts, and find out why certain things work. For example, I know Elvish healers prescribe a tea made from willow bark for pain. We know that willow bark contains salicylic acid, which we isolated and use to make those pills I gave you for the pain - aspirin. Want one?" She shook the bottle at him.

"No, thank you," Haldir said, then yawned.

"I don't think I've ever seen an elf yawn," Maggie teased. "Come on, I'm putting you in bed, and you're staying there."

Haldir didn't argue, so she helped him to his feet, and they walked arm in arm to the barracks, where she checked quickly on the other elves, then returned to her chamber for a good night's sleep.

...

The next couple of days passed relatively quickly. Everyone was so worn out from the battle and still recovering, so there was a lot of resting going on. Maggie made the rounds, checking in on everyone who had been injured.

On the afternoon on the third day, the riders that had left with Gandalf returned, with Merry and Pippin. That night, there was a very large banquet in the hall.

"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country," Théoden said, holding up a goblet of wine in toast. "Hail the victorious dead!"

"Hail!"

Maggie sat at a table with Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, and Éomer. The two recovered hobbits were entertaining others with a song-and-dance routine on top of a table. Éomer explained the rules of a drinking contest to Legolas, who had been challenged by Gimli. Maggie couldn't help snickering.

"No pauses," said Éomer. "No spills."

"And no regurgitation!"

"So," Legolas said. "It's a drinking game."

"Aye!" yelled the table of Rohirrim, who were happily half in the bag.

"Last one standing wins!" Gimli exclaimed, chugging down the first tankard.

"Let's drink to victory!" one of the Rohirrim raised his tankard. "To victory!"

Legolas and Gimli chugged down tankard after tankard of beer. It didn't seem to have any effect on Legolas, Maggie noted, while Gimli let out a large belch and started laughing.

"Here, here," he gestured for another tankard. "Raaaaar. It's the dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women!" He laughed again, and Maggie saw Boromir stifle a laugh into his sleeve as Gimli burped and chugged another tankard.

"I feel something," Legolas said, looking down at his fingers with concern. "A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it's affecting me."

"Have another!" Maggie pushed a tankard toward him, and downed her own.

"Heh heh," Gimli slurred. "What did I say? He can't hold his liquor!" He sat quietly for a moment, giving the slightly unfocused gaze of the very drunk. Then he passed out backwards off of the stool.

"He is going to have a bitch of a headache in the morning," Maggie shook her head. "And he can whine all he wants, he's not getting any aspirin from me."

"Game over," Legolas said. He looked up, and saw Haldir leaning against a pillar, a goblet of wine in his hand. Haldir smiled.

"Come and sit down!" Maggie patted the bench beside her.

"I think I prefer your drinking games," Legolas told Maggie, as Aragorn hauled Gimli off to a dark corner to sleep it off. He exchanged a few words in Elvish with Haldir, then turned to watch Merry and Pippin.

"Oh, you can search far and wide  
You can drink the whole town dry  
But you'll never find a beer so brown,  
But you'll never find a beer so brown,  
As the one we drink in our hometown  
As the one we drink in our hometown

You can drink your fancy ales  
You can drink them by the flagon,  
But the only brew for the brave and true  
Comes from the Green Dragon!"

Maggie laughed and clapped, and Pippin jumped down from the table.

"Come on, Maggie, surely you know a good drinking song!" Pippin grabbed her hand and tried to push her up on the table.

"Oh no," Maggie objected, putting the brakes on. "I'm not quite drunk enough for that yet!"

"Then have another," Boromir pressed a mug into her hand. "Go on!" She gave him a withering glare, but joined the hobbits on a table.

"This one is from my home," she laughed. "It's called Drunken Sailor."

She went through a version of the song, and soon everyone was singing 'Way-hey and up she rises!' with her. Pippin gave her a slap on the back as she sat down on the edge of the table and took another mug of beer.

"More!" Merry demanded. Maggie laughed, and grabbed a pair of wooden spoons, placing them back to back. She began to slap them against her knee and her hand, beginning a clicking beat.

"Let's see if you can keep up with this one, it's a bit of a tongue-twister!

There's a neat little lass and her name is Mari Mac  
Make no mistake, she's the girl I'm gonna track  
Lot of other fellas try to get her on her back  
But I'm thinking that they'll have to get up early

Mari Mac's mother's making Mari Mac marry me  
My mother's making me marry Mari Mac  
Well I'm going to marry Mari for when Mari's taking care of me  
We'll all be feeling merry when I marry Mari Mac

Now Mari and her mother are an awful lot together  
In fact you hardly see the one without the other  
And people often wonder if it's Mari or her mother  
Or both of them together I am courting  
Mari Mac's mother's making Mari Mac marry me  
My mother's making me marry Mari Mac  
Well I'm going to marry Mari for when Mari's taking care of me  
We'll all be feeling merry when I marry Mari Mac

Well up among the heather in the hills of Bonifee  
Well I had a bonnie lass sitting on me knee  
A bumble bee stung me right above me knee  
Up among the heather in the hills of Benifee  
Mari Mac's mother's making Mari Mac marry me  
My mother's making me marry Mari Mac  
Well I'm going to marry Mari for when Mari's taking care of me  
We'll all be feeling merry when I marry Mari Mac

Well I said "Wee bonnie lassie, where you going to spend the day?"  
She said "Among the heather in the hills of Benifee"  
Where all the boys and girls are making out so free  
Up among the heather in the hills of Benifee  
Mari Mac's mother's making Mari Mac marry me  
My mother's making me marry Mari Mac  
Well I'm going to marry Mari for when Mari's taking care of me  
We'll all be feeling merry when I marry Mari Mac

The wedding's on Wednesday, everything's arranged  
Soon her name will be changed to mine unless her mind be changed  
And making the arrangements, I'm feeling quite deranged  
Marriage is an awful undertaking  
Mari Mac's mother's making Mari Mac marry me  
My mother's making me marry Mari Mac  
Well I'm going to marry Mari for when Mari's taking care of me  
We'll all be feeling merry when I marry Mari Mac

Sure to be a grand affair, grander than a fair  
Going to be a fork and plate for every man that's there  
And I'll be a bugger if I don't get my share  
If I don't we'll be very much mistaken  
Mari Mac's mother's making Mari Mac marry me  
My mother's making me marry Mari Mac  
Well I'm going to marry Mari for when Mari's taking care of me  
We'll all be feeling merry when I marry Mari Mac

There's a neat little lass and her name is Mari Mac  
Make no mistake, she's the girl I'm gonna track  
Lot of other fellas try to get up on her back  
I'm thinking that they'll have to get up early

Mari Mac's mother's making Mari Mac marry me  
My mother's making me marry Mari Mac  
Well I'm going to marry Mari for when Mari's taking care of me  
We'll all be feeling merry when I marry Mari Mac."

By the end she was laughing so hard she could barely get the words out, because Merry and Pippin were dancing around on the table and cheering. When she'd finished, Merry thumped down on the table beside her.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "I think that's my favourite."

"That's because it's got your name in it," Maggie mumbled, around another chug of beer.

She looked around at the faces staring at her, grinning, and caught Boromir's eye. He smiled at her. She went to stand up, stumbling. Éomer caught her.

"Indulge a little too much in drink?" he teased.

"I might throw up on you," she retorted. He laughed, and handed her over to Boromir, who was decidedly more sober than Maggie.

"Come on," he said, smiling. "I'm putting you to bed."

"I knew I liked you."

...

A/N: Last chapter's song: Everything's Magic by Angels and Airwaves


	20. Show me how to fight for now

...

A/N: Now things start getting deep. I've had to make a few choices about how to proceed with Boromir being Not Dead, so I hope I don't disappoint. My choices about the state of Denethor's mental health reflect just that.

Not a whole lot of fun in this chapter, but then, we're reaching the climax of the war, which isn't much time for silliness.

I tried to take some advice from a reader and deviate a bit from the script, but these scenes are pretty important to the overall plot. Things will pick up a bit as we enter the war, and especially post-war bits.

Enjoy!

...

Chapter Twenty - Show me how to fight for now

...

The next morning, Maggie emerged into the hall to find quite the ruckus happening. Pippin and Gandalf were standing before Théoden. Maggie sidled up beside Pippin, looking at the nervous hobbit. She saw Boromir slip into the room out of the corner of her eye, and she smiled at him. He walked up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring," Gandalf said. "We've been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the Palantir a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith."

Boromir's hand tightened on her shoulder, but he said nothing. Gandalf nodded at him.

"His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing," Gandalf continued. "He knows the Heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. Their is courage still. Strength enough, perhaps, to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle Earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground -" Maggie covered Boromir's hand with her own. "- before he sees a king return to the throne of men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

"Tell me," Théoden said angrily. "Why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

"Considering two of Gondor's sons were willing to lie down their lives for your people," Maggie interjected. "And considering if you don't, Middle Earth will fall..."

"Sh," Boromir whispered. Maggie scowled.

"I will go!" Aragorn said.

"No," replied Gandalf.

"They must be warned!" Aragorn paced.

"They will be," Gandalf stepped closer to Aragorn, and murmured something to him alone. "Understand this, things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith, and I won't be going alone."

"I will come with you," Boromir said. "My duty is to my home."

"I'm coming, too," Maggie clasped his hand in hers. "Being that I have no home, I vow to defend yours."

"Very well," Gandalf nodded. "Gather your things. Meet me at the stables."

Maggie and Boromir rushed off to do just that.

...

Maggie swung herself up onto Charismatic, hooking her bag over the saddle. She smiled down at Éowyn, who grinned back.

"See you soon," she mouthed. Éowyn nodded. Gandalf lifted Pippin up onto Shadowfax, and Boromir swung himself up onto his horse - Hasufel, who Aragorn had passed on to him after he returned on Brego.

"How far is Minas Tirith?" Pippin asked.

"Three days ride as the Nazgûl flies," Gandalf replied shortly. "And you'd better hope we don't have one of those on our tail."

"Here, something for the road," Merry said, stepping forward and handing Pippin a leather pouch.

"The last of the Longbottom Leaf?"

"I know you've run out," Merry replied. "You smoke too much, Pippin."

"But," Pippin looked down hopefully. "We'll see each other soon? Won't we?"

"I don't know," Merry replied, upset. "I don't know what's going to happen."

"Merry?" Pippin said worriedly.

Gandalf dug his heels into Shadowfax.

"Run, Shadowfax," he said. "Show us the meaning of haste."

Maggie clicked her tongue at Charismatic and urged him forward, Boromir close on her heels.

"Merry!" Pippin called back, as they raced towards the horizon.

...

They crossed the river into Gondor shortly after dawn on the third day. They rode long and hard, taking only short breaks to eat and sleep, and allow the horses enough rest to continue.

The White City came into view in the distance, emerging from the mists tall, proud and glimmering. Maggie sucked in a breath. She had seen many beautiful cities in different countries in her life, but this medieval fortress of white rock was absolutely stunning.

She looked over at Boromir, who smiled at her. She smiled back.

"Home," he said, simply.

The three riders, accompanied by one small hobbit, bent low over the necks of their horses, and galloped towards the gates.

They rode up into the city, winding up the hills of cobblestones to the great white hall at the top. They passed by a white tree, void of leaves, as they dismounted.

"It's the tree!" Pippin exclaimed. "Gandalf!"

"Yes," Gandalf said. "The white tree of Gondor. The tree of the King. Lord Denethor, however, is not the King. He is a steward, a caretaker of the throne."

"And my father," Boromir said. "It's probably a good idea to keep quiet, Pippin. His cares of late are great, and he will not be happy that I am returning without the Ring."

"True," said Gandalf. "Do not mention Frodo or the Ring. And say nothing of Aragorn, either. In fact, its better if you don't speak at all, Peregrin Took."

Maggie took Boromir's hand, tentatively, and they entered the hall.

"Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor," Gandalf greeted, striding forward into the chamber. "I come with tidings in this dark hour, and with counsel."

"Perhaps you come to explain this," Denethor turned, holding the two halves of Boromir's horn. "Perhaps you have come to tell me why my son is dead."

"I am not dead, Father," Boromir emerged from the shadows, and took a knee in front of the grey-haired man. "I live, still, though by what power or for what purpose I do not know."

"How can this be?" Denethor looked down at his son in bewilderment. "Bloodstained clothing was found - we thought you were dead, torn apart by the beasts of Mordor."

"Boromir was injured to save us, my kinsman and me," Pippin interjected. "Maggie saved his life. He would have died." He approached the throne and knelt.

"Maggie?" Denethor's suspicious eyes turned to take in the thin, muscular, strangely-clad frame standing next to his son. He looked her up and down, wondering about this peculiar figure.

"My Lord," she knelt in front of him. "Pippin speaks the truth. I have skills in healing beyond most of what exists in this world. He should be dead. But he is not. We had to leave behind his effects, to travel in haste to Edoras."

"In that case, you have my thanks," Denethor said. "...Lady Maggie?" He seemed to have trouble discerning her gender, clad as she was in baggy camo pants and a zipped up hoodie. "I have spent many hours grieving for the death of my firstborn." Maggie rose, and planted her hand on the small of Boromir's back as he stood beside her.

"War is coming," Gandalf cut in. "The enemy is on your doorstep. As steward, you are charged with the defence of this city. Where are Gondor's armies? You still have friends. You are not alone in this fight. Send word to Théoden of Rohan. Light the beacons."

"You think you are wise, Mithrandir," Denethor turned to Gandalf, suddenly angry, a crazed look in his eyes. "Yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom. Do you think the eyes of the White Tower are blind? I have seen more than you know. With your left hand, you would use me as a shield against Mordor, and with your right, you would seek to supplant me." Boromir sucked in a breath. "I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan. Oh yes, word has reached my ears of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And I tell you now, I will not bow to this Ranger from the North. Last of a ragged house long bereft of Lordship."

"Father!" Boromir scolded. "Aragorn is a man of honour. I have fought alongside him. Our requirement as stewards has been to protect the throne in the absence of the King of Gondor! But he will ride toward us now, and it is our duty to stand by him and fight for our people." Maggie smiled at him. "At first, I resented him, because I thought he had abandoned his people in their hour of need. Yet he is a stronger man than I first believed. He is worthy, Father. He is, in all but blood, my brother. He should be King."

"The rule of Gondor is mine and no others!" Denethor snapped, rounding on his son. "Where is the Ring of Power, that I tasked you with retrieving?"

"I do not have it," Boromir said sternly. "And even if I did, I could not give it to you. We cannot use it against Mordor. Please, Father, see reason."

"You have failed me," Denethor sighed, glaring at Boromir. Maggie took a sidelong glance at Gandalf, who was seething. Gandalf turned to Pippin.

"Come," the wizard said. "I will not stand here and listen to this madness."

He turned and swept out of the hall, Pippin close on his heels.

"The Ring would have poisoned him," Maggie said. "It is not meant to be wielded by anyone other than Sauron. If it had come here, Minas Tirith would have already fallen, and Sauron would have the Ring."

"I did not ask for your opinion, girl," Denethor spat. "Who are you to be speaking to me with such insolence?"

"Father!" Boromir snapped. "You will not speak to her in that manner. This woman has saved my life." He glanced at her, and she smiled at him and inclined her head almost imperceptibly. "And I love her."

"You love her?" Denethor said mockingly, then laughed. "This slip of a girl, dressed as a boy? Who is her father? Her family?" He paused, and received no answer. "Of common blood. I thought so. What good marriage will she make for you? Tell me that!"

"One forged of love," Boromir replied. "She has shown me things I did not know, and I am a better person because of her." He looked at Maggie, who reached for his hand and squeezed it. Denethor looked between the two, watching their interaction shrewdly.

"I see," Denethor said. "So she is your whore."

"No!" Boromir reddened angrily. Maggie, having managed to keep her temper under control, stepped forward.

"You do not know me," Maggie said, standing nose to nose with the Steward of Gondor, unflinchingly. "But you do not scare me, and you will not control me. I am not from your world; things are different where I come from. I am a soldier. I am a healer. I am a woman - but do not mistake my gender as a sign of weakness. I will not be intimidated or slandered. By anyone." She stared him down, and he finally looked away. She spun on her heel, and walked out of the room, waiting outside the door for Boromir, still able to hear their continuing argument. She looked down, and saw that her hands were shaking.

"She is not a whore," Boromir said. "You will never speak of her in that way in my presence again, Father. Are we clear?"

"You will not marry her," Denethor replied. "I will not see my eldest son debase himself."

"She is a formidable woman," Boromir shot back. "And you have changed. You have become cold, and cruel. Did you not love Mother once?"

"Do not speak to me of your mother," Denethor spat. "You have failed me, and you have disappointed me. You will return to your duties as Captain of the White Tower, and go to Osgiliath, and we will say no more of this."

"No, I won't," Boromir shot back. She heard something slam down on the table. "Take the seal. I have no more need of it. Goodbye, Father."

Boromir stormed out.

...

The four sat outside, on benches near the white tree. Boromir cradled his head in his hands.

"Something is horribly wrong," he groaned. "Father has always been difficult, but this is unlike even him. There is an anger deep within him that I cannot breach. I thought he would be happy upon my return." He turned to Maggie, who hugged him. "I am sorry for what he said. He is not himself."

"He has abandoned reason," Gandalf said. "He is descending into the darkness, pulled down by Sauron. I do not know if we can reach him now."

"We must do something!" Boromir cried. "I cannot watch my country fall into ruin and stand by and do nothing to stop it."

"We must light the beacons, and we must prepare for war," Gandalf said.

"I'll help you," Maggie smiled at him. "Your father... he is ill. He is losing track of his own mind, I can see it in his eyes. From my home, a man in such a state would be forced to abdicate his position. I will defend your home until my last breath."

"I will, too," Pippin said, jumping up. "I swear it. You're practically the Steward of Gondor, now. I will be loyal to you."

Boromir looked at the little hobbit standing in front of him, and smiled.

"We can't lose," he said, putting his hand on Pippin's shoulder. "We have Frodo and Sam to think about. Their suffering cannot be for nothing."

"Your people will rally to you," Gandalf mused. "You are still Captain of the White Tower."

"Er," Boromir said, lowering his head. "No, I'm not."

Gandalf gave him a long, withering look.

"Denethor insulted me," Maggie explained. "And then ordered him to go to Osgiliath."

"I turned in the Captain's Seal," Boromir said. "No longer am I Captain of the White Tower."

"Well, then, we must formulate a plan," Gandalf pulled out his pipe, and lit it, sucking in some of the tobacco. Maggie, following suit, sparked her lighter and lit a cigarette, sucking in the nicotine, calming her frayed nerves.

"Boromir," Maggie said, exhaling smoke through her nose. "Only your father knows you are no longer Captain."

"That won't remain true for long," Boromir replied.

"Maybe not," she said. "But long enough to make a few appointments, no?"

Gandalf looked at her, and she smiled back.

"Peregrin Took," she said, as Gandalf's face lit up with the scheme formulating in his mind. "Guard of the Citadel."

"Am I missing something?" Pippin asked, looking between the wizard and the woman in confusion.

"Come on," said Boromir. "We have no time to lose."

...

They stood on a balcony, as thunder rumbled in the distance. Boromir had found a small sword for Pippin, and the hobbit stood examining it worriedly.

"So I imagine this is just a ceremonial position?" the hobbit said, pulling the sword out of its scabbard. "I mean, you don't actually expect me to do any fighting, do you?" He looked up at Boromir worriedly. Boromir put his hand on the hobbit's shoulder.

"Do not worry," Boromir said.

Maggie looked up at the darkening sky.

"No more stars," she said.

"Is it time?" Pippin asked.

"Yes," Gandalf replied.

"It's so quiet," Pippin said, softly.

"It's the deep breath before the plunge," Gandalf replied absently.

"I don't want to be in a battle," Pippin admitted. "But waiting on the edge of one I can't escape is even worse. Is there any hope, Gandalf, for Frodo and Sam?"

"There never was much hope," Gandalf mumbled. "Just a fool's hope."

Pippin looked at Maggie.

"There is more hope than that," Maggie revealed. "They will succeed. Our job is to distract Sauron. Draw his forces out to us. While he's worried about the armies of Middle Earth marching on him, Frodo and Sam will be sneaking up behind him. He won't see it coming."

"That is more reassurance than you realize," Gandalf smiled at her. "I forget, sometimes, that you have seen the end of this."

"I have," she replied firmly. "And we will win."

Gandalf looked out over the land again. "If the river is taken, if the garrison at Osgiliath falls, the last defence of this city will be gone."

"But we have the white wizard," Pippin put in. "That's got to count for something."

"Ahem," said Maggie teasingly. Pippin smiled at her.

"And you," he added.

"Sauron has yet to show his deadliest servant," Gandalf said, looking at Mordor on the horizon. "The one who will lead Mordor's army in war. The one they say no living man can kill. The Witch King of Angmar. You've met him before, he stabbed Frodo on Weathertop. He is the Lord of the Nazgûl. The greatest of the nine."

"Don't worry about him," Maggie said. "Come on, we've got shit to do."

Pippin laughed, and even Gandalf smiled. They snuck off, out into the city, Boromir leading the way.

...

They stood at the base of the ladder leading up to the watch tower. Gandalf clapped Pippin on the shoulder. Maggie and Boromir took up positions to watch for anyone approaching who might disturb them.

"Peregrin Took, my lad," Gandalf said. "There is a task now to be done. Another opportunity for one of the Shire folk to prove their great worth. You must not fail me."

Pippin gulped, looking up at the tower, then sucked in a breath, a determined look in his eyes, and began to climb the ladder.

Maggie watched out of the corner of her eye as Pippin reached the top, pulling the oil container down onto the straw, and dropped the lamp onto the beacon.

"What?" a guard suddenly noticed the beacon.

"Amon Dîn," Gandalf said, with satisfaction, as he looked out over the cliff to see a flame leap up in the distance.

"The beacon!" another soldier yelled. "The beacon of Amon Dîn is lit!"

"Hope is kindled," Gandalf laughed.

Maggie smiled at him, and helped Pippin down from the ladder. She fist-bumped him, to his amusement.

"And now," Maggie said. "We must ride out to meet your brother."

"Yes," replied Boromir. "And if my father is now turned against me, I can only imagine what he has rained down upon poor Faramir's head."

...

The four rode out, towards Osgiliath, Pippin perched on the front of Maggie's horse this time, being that she was the lightest of the group. She dug her heels into Charismatic, and held onto Pippin's waist. He clung to the saddle horn as the horse surged forward, close on the heels of Shadowfax, with Hasufel beside them.

Riding towards them were a company of soldiers fleeing Osgiliath, with the Nazgûl hot on their tales.

"It's Mithrandir!" they heard, yells from inside the crowd of soldiers. "The White Rider!"

Gandalf surged forward, flanked by Boromir and Maggie, as he lit his staff with a bright white light, driving off the Nazgûl. Maggie and Boromir galloped their horses around the crowd of men, and began to herd them towards the gates of the White City. The gates opened, admitting the men.

"Mithrandir," said a voice, belonging to a man who looked eerily like Boromir. He focused on Boromir next. "Brother?"

Boromir jumped down from his horse, tossing the reins to Maggie.

"Brother," he met Faramir as he jumped down from his horse, and hugged him.

"I thought you were dead," his voice broke, and there were tears in his eyes. "They broke through our defences. They've taken the bridge and the west bank. Battalions of Orcs are crossing the river."

"It is as the Lord Denethor predicted!" one of the soldiers interjected. "Long has he foreseen this doom!"

"Foreseen and done nothing!" Gandalf scoffed. Faramir looked next at Maggie, and curiously at Pippin. Gandalf stared at him hard.

"Faramir?" the wizard said. "This is not the first Halfling to have crossed your path."

"No," Faramir shook his head.

"You've seen Frodo and Sam?" Pippin asked, from his perch in front of Maggie.

"Where?" Gandalf asked frantically. "When?"

"In Ithilien," Faramir responded. "Not two days ago. Gandalf, they're taking the road to the Morgul vale."

"And then the pass of Cirith Ungol," Gandalf said, in horror. Faramir nodded.

"What does this mean?" Pippin squeaked. "What's wrong?"

"Faramir," Gandalf said gravely. "Tell me everything. Tell me all you know."

They walked up to the hall as Faramir filled them in on his encounter with both hobbits, and with Gollum.

"Sam told me that the Ring was taking over your mind," Faramir said to Boromir. "He said he didn't know if you were alive or dead, but if you died, it was because you wanted to take the Ring. And I let them go. Father will be furious."

"Well," Boromir clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "For once, he's furious at both of us."

"He is not himself," Faramir shook his head. "Well, he's always been - you know what I mean - but there's something in his eyes."

"The Crazy," Maggie put in. "Sauron's getting to him."

"Who is this, anyway?" Faramir asked, as they approached the hall. Boromir grinned, and put his arm around Maggie's waist.

"Faramir," he said. "This is Maggie. Maggie, this is my brother Faramir."

Maggie grinned, and held out her hand.

"You are dressed very strangely," Faramir eyed her critically. "But any friend of my brother's is a friend to me." He took her hand.

They stood in front of the doors. Faramir drew in a shaky breath.

"Well, let's get this over with," Faramir sighed, and pushed open the doors.

"Courage," Maggie said, slapping him on the back. Gandalf and Pippin left them, to go sit by the white tree, while the three entered the hall.

...

"This is how you would serve your city?" Denethor raged. "You would risk its utter ruin?"

"I did what I judged to be right," Faramir replied.

"What you judged to be right!" Denethor spat. "You sent the Ring of power into Mordor in the hands of a witless Halfling! It should have been brought back to the citadel to be kept safe. Hidden. Dark and deep in the vaults, not to be used." Suddenly his eyelids flickered, an eerie motion. "Unless, at the uttermost end of need."

"I would not use the Ring," Faramir replied, finding his courage. "Not if Minas Tirith were falling in ruin and I alone could save her."

"Ever you desire to appear lordly and gracious as a king of old," Denethor muttered, wringing his hands. His eyes flickered again. "Boromir would have remembered his father's need. He would have brought me a kingly gift."

"No," interjected Boromir. "I would have fallen to its evil, just as Faramir says."

"You know nothing of this matter," Denethor said, to no one in particular.

"When he returned you would not have known your son," Faramir said, looking at Boromir for encouragement. "I have seen what the Ring does to the mind, it is poison."

"Boromir was loyal to me!" Denethor yelled. "Not some wizard's pupil!" He stumbled backwards, falling against his chair. Boromir and Faramir exchanged a worried glance. Maggie stepped forward and knelt in front of the man.

"Your son lives," she said softly. She took her flashlight out and shone it into his eyes, checking the response of his pupils. She looked worriedly over her shoulder at the two brothers.

"Father?" Faramir stepped forward. Denethor looked up at him, and saw Boromir at his shoulder, but his face turned full of grief. "Leave me!"

"I am not dead," Boromir knelt before his father, crumpled on the floor. Maggie began to take his blood pressure, and to her astonishment, Denethor didn't fight her. "Do you not remember our argument before?"

"Boromir," the Steward whispered, tracing his hand over his son's cheek. "Am I dead?"

"No," he replied. "And neither am I."

"My Lord," Maggie asked. "What is today's date?"

"It is..." Denethor faltered. "I do not recall."

"What does this mean?" Faramir asked, crouching near Maggie as she counted his pulse.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "He seems to be experiencing what we call psychosis. He is seeing and hearing things that aren't there. This is an illness of the mind, and it is unlikely that I can treat it."

Boromir caught her eye, blinking back tears.

"I am sorry, Father," he said. "I did not realize you were unwell. I should not have argued with you."

"I wish to go to bed," Denethor said, clutching at his head. "My head hurts."

"Can you get some water?" Maggie turned to Faramir. He nodded, and returned with a goblet. She fished in her bag for some Tylenol, and turned to Denethor. "My Lord, can you swallow these two pills for me? They will stop your head from hurting. Then you can go to bed."

Denethor looked up at her, and with an almost childlike manner, nodded, and opened his hand to take the pills.

On their way out, Boromir retrieved his seal from his father's desk.

...

Boromir stayed by his father's bedside, while Maggie and Faramir left to find Gandalf. He slept soundly for an hour or so, and when he awoke, it was as if the incident had not occurred, and he rained down angry words on Boromir's head before storming off into the hall.

...

"What were you thinking, Peregrin Took?" Pippin mumbled to himself as he sat on a bench. "What service can a Hobbit offer such a great lord of men?"

"It was well done," Faramir said, approaching with Maggie at his side. "A generous deed should not be checked with cold counsel. Boromir says you are to join the tower guard, and swear fealty to my father, provided he is himself again."

"I didn't think they would find any livery that would fit me," Pippin admitted, jumping up from the bench.

"It once belonged to a young boy of the city," Faramir revealed. "A very foolish one who wasted many hours slaying dragons instead of attending his studies."

"It was yours?" Pippin asked, grinning. Maggie laughed.

"Yes, it was mine," Faramir said, bending to adjust his tunic. "My father had it made for me."

"Well, I'm taller than you were then," Pippin said proudly. "Though I'm not likely to grow anymore. Except sideways."

"It never fitted me either," Faramir chuckled. "Boromir has always been the soldier. They were so alike, he and my father. Proud, stubborn even, but strong."

"I think you have strength of a different kind," Pippin said, in a rare moment of wisdom. "And one day your father will see it."

Maggie smiled at Faramir.

"Your brother has told me much about you," Maggie told him. "He'll probably never admit it to you, but I think he's actually jealous of you." Faramir looked skeptical. "Hear me out. He's always had to be the responsible one. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. Meeting expectations that raise ever higher is just as hard as knowing that your failure is anticipated."

Faramir shook his head. "I wish I were more like him."

"He would have fallen," Maggie said softly. "If I had not come to be here, in this world? He would have died, trying to take the Ring from Frodo. I don't know why he did not try to take it, he has never said, but that was his path."

"Do you have a gift of foresight?" Faramir asked. Maggie shrugged.

"Sort of," she said. "I come from a different world altogether. In my world, this is but a story. A myth. So I know how it should have ended."

"I am glad my brother's life was spared," Faramir told her. "Though we have had our differences, I do love him."

"I know," said Maggie. "And so does he."

...

"Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor in peace or war, in living or dying," Pippin said, kneeling before a smiling Denethor. "From this hour henceforth until my Lord release me or death take me."

"And I shall not forget it," Denethor said. "Nor fail to reward that which is given." He offered Pippin the ring on his finger, which Pippin leaned forward to kiss. "Fealty with love. Valour with honour. Disloyalty with vengeance." He walked over to a table, laden with food, and looked up at his two sons. "I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defences."

"What would you have me do?" Faramir asked.

"I will not yield the river and Pellenor unfought," Denethor said. "Osgiliath must be retaken."

"My Lord," Faramir said slowly. "Osgiliath is over run."

"Much must be risked in war," Denethor sighed. "Is there a Captain here who still has the courage to do his Lord's will?"

Boromir opened his mouth, then closed it again when Maggie shook her head at him.

"I will do what I can," Faramir said carefully. "If I should return, think better of me, Father."

"That will depend on the manner of your return," Denethor said, giving his younger son a hard look. Boromir smiled at him sympathetically as he turned to leave the hall.

"Be safe, brother," he said. Faramir nodded, looking at his brother with worry written on his face.

"I would have sent you, Boromir," Denethor said. "But you have resigned."

"Yes," Boromir replied, through gritted teeth.

"Failures, both of my sons," Denethor muttered, as he bit into a piece of meat. He looked at Pippin. "Can you sing, Master Hobbit?"

"Well, yes," Pippin said reluctantly. "At least well enough for my own people. But we have no songs for great halls and evil times."

"And why should your songs be unfit for my halls?" Denethor asked. "Come, sing me a song."

"Maggie is much better at this," Pippin said. Denethor looked at him angrily.

"I do not wish to hear the voice of my son's harlot," he said dangerously. "Sing."

"I need to get out of here," Boromir whispered to Maggie, his fists clenched. Maggie nodded, looking up at the guards stationed around the room.

"Pippin will be safe enough," Maggie said. "Let's go find Gandalf."

Pippin's gentle voice followed them out of the hall, and Maggie gripped Boromir's hand, knowing how hard it was for him to watch the man who raised him fading away before his eyes.

...

Boromir and Maggie emerged from the hall to find chaos, as the soldiers of Minas Tirith gathered to prepare to leave.

"Your father's will has turned to madness," Gandalf said angrily, shoving his way through the crowd to Faramir. "Do not throw away your life so rashly."

"Where does my allegiance lie if not here?" Faramir asked. "This is the city of the men of Númenor. I will gladly give my life to defend her beauty, her memory, her wisdom."

"Your father loves you, Faramir," Gandalf said sadly. "He will remember it before the end."

"He loves both of us," Boromir said, clasping his brother's hand in both of his. "Be safe."

"He will be," Maggie said, in a strange hollow voice. Boromir looked back at her, and Faramir smiled.

"See?" he said, as his horse started to walk. "All will be well."

"No apology," Maggie said suddenly. Boromir looked at her quizzically. She began to sing.

"No apology  
We will not back down  
No apology  
We are not afraid  
No apology  
Not a drop of doubt  
No apology  
Hand in hand, across this land  
Our voices shout it out  
No apologies!"

Boromir clapped her on the back, and the people of Minas Tirith began to cheer along with her as she repeated this anthem, as the men rode out, a newfound spark in their eyes. Maggie pumped her fist in the air, and led the choir of citizens, who sang their men off to war.

...

A/N: The song Maggie sings at the end is called No Apologies, by Bon Jovi. Oddly, it happened to come on my iPod just as I wrote the end of that scene. I thought it was an appropriate enough war anthem.

Last chapter's title guessed by Anna the Lynx. Firework by Katy Perry.


	21. Throw your soul through every open door

...

A/N: Geez, these past couple of weeks have been batshit crazy. My health's been in the toilet, but thankfully I seem to be doing better. I'm hoping to get to update at least twice this week to make up for my brief hiatus.

Apologies for brevity. I wanted to post SOMETHING tonight.

Hello to new readers, welcome back to the old.

...

Chapter Twenty-One - Throw your soul through every open door

...

Boromir and Maggie stood on the uppermost level, watching the smoke rise from the city of Osgiliath. It wasn't long before a party returned, with the orcs close on their tail.

Faramir was with them, and he'd been badly injured. He had ordered a retreat, thankfully, and though many lives were lost, the losses were not total.

"Quick, hurry!" one of the soldiers said, as Faramir was borne back into the city on a stretcher. Maggie rushed down immediately, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Faramir!" Denethor said, rushing out from the building. "Say not that he has fallen."

"They were outnumbered," one of the soldiers said. "Few survived."

Maggie knelt next to Faramir, who was placed on the ground. He was clearly unconscious, and was bleeding from a wound near his collarbone.

"He's alive," she said, pulling out her stethoscope, and swearing softly under her breath at her lack of foresight.

"My sons are spent," Denethor wailed, staggering backwards. Boromir stepped toward him, concerned. "My line has ended. The house of Stewards has failed."

"Father?" Boromir looked at the man, who was shivering.

"My line has ended!"

As Maggie worked on Faramir, the orcs closed in around the city with catapults.

"My Lord?" asked Pippin, stepping close to him. Denethor looked over the wall at the massive army, and his lip began to tremble.

"Rohan has deserted us!" he wailed. The catapults began to fling rocks. Maggie looked up at Boromir.

"Faramir has a head injury, but we won't know how bad until he wakes. I'll do what I can, set someone to watch him, and I'll join the fight."

"What about Father?" Boromir looked uneasy.

"Théoden's betrayed me!" Denethor raved. "Abandon your posts! Flee! Flee for your lives!"

The guards looked at each other in concern, and began to leave.

"Boromir!" Maggie yelled. "Grab him!"

Boromir grabbed on to Denethor's robes, as Gandalf appeared.

"Prepare for battle," Gandalf instructed. "Hurry, men! To the wall, defend the wall! Over here, return to your posts. Boromir! With me!"

Boromir left his father with a worried glance, and mounted his horse, and rode along the wall with Gandalf, shouting orders to the men half-heard by Maggie. She worked on Faramir, as Denethor began to sob.

When she had stitched him up to the best of her ability, she tried her smelling salts on him, to no avail. That worried her, but she couldn't do much for him now. Denethor was curled up in a corner, bawling. Maggie tried to convince him to swallow a sedative, but he refused.

She found a couple of maids, and had them help her carry him to bed. She set one of them to watch Faramir for any change, the other to attend Denethor, who seemed suddenly sober and calm. She then grabbed her gun, running out to the wall, where catapults were firing on both sides.

She retrieved Charismatic, and rode down to the lowest level, where the men were bracing the wall and barring the gate. Maggie headed to the wall with the archers, on horseback behind them. Gandalf was between her and Boromir, who was down with the men bracing the wall.

"More rocks," Boromir yelled.

"Hold them back," Gandalf encouraged. "Do not give in to fear. Stand to your posts. Fight!"

Archers up on the wall released their arrows, hitting the siege towers.

"Not at the towers," Gandalf instructed. "Aim for the trolls, kill the trolls."

Maggie fired her gun down on the trolls, taking out a couple of them as the men released a volley of arrows.

"Bring them down!" she heard Gandalf shout.

"Steady on, men," came Boromir's voice. "Hold steady!"

One of the siege towers reached the wall, a door falling down and making a bridge that several orcs leapt across. Maggie mowed down a handful of them with her handgun, and the archers dispatched the rest. A great crash reverberated through the city as a battering ram smashed into the gate, though it did not yield.

The orcs continued smashing into the gate, and both sides were firing catapults. The besieged city was beginning to crumble, ever so slowly, and the orcs began a mocking war chant. The men began to look scared.

"Show 'em what you're made of," Maggie called out. "We will not back down! You will be sung about for centuries to come, push, men, push!"

Though many of the men were perplexed by the sight of a strange woman on horseback, firing a bizarre weapon into the fray, her rallying cry was heard and taken up, and soon the men of Gondor were letting out fierce war cries along with their arrows. Boromir smiled up at her, then helped his comrades place another thick log to brace the gates.

"You are soldiers of Gondor," Gandalf cried out. "No matter what comes through that gate, you will stand your ground!"

They held the gate for as long as they could, as fire rained down on them, the smell of singed hair and flesh and fresh blood hot on the air. Gandalf began to ride back from the gate as the army of Mordor began to break through.

"Retreat!" Gandalf barked. "The city is breached. Fall back to the second level! Get the women and children out. Retreat!"

"Come on," Boromir cried, as he pulled people through the gate, and men pulled it shut. The orcs in the first level were killing everything and everyone in their paths.

"Fight!" Gandalf hollered. "Fight to the last man. Right for your lives!"

"Hold fast, men!" Maggie commanded. She jumped down from her horse and led men up on the battlements, and set some women about boiling cauldrons of water to pour down and scald the orcs below. She saw Pippin weaving through the men frantically, looking for Gandalf. "Shit," she said. Gandalf swung Pippin up on Shadowfax and they took off towards the upper level. Boromir looked up at Maggie in confusion, as he beheaded an orc in his path. She shook her head and looked up to the hall worriedly. He followed her gaze, then shook the thoughts away as he jumped once more into the fray.

As he did, a horn sounded in the distance, signalling the arrival of their salvation.

...

The riders charged forth into the battle, cutting down orcs and trolls in their paths, yelling bloody murder as they did. Maggie cheered from on high, then sobered as she saw a figure, engulfed in flames, leap from the very top of the city.

Boromir watched in horror, and left his post to meet her.

"Was that...?" he asked, his eyes wide. She embraced him tightly, taking a moment of solace in the midst of battle.

"It was," she murmured. "I'm sorry." She pulled back and looked at him. His eyes were sad, but he shook his head.

"He is at peace," he said. "He was losing grip on his mind. Perhaps it is better this way."

"Perhaps," she replied, as they looked down on the Rohirrim, who were charging ever onwards, bringing with them a renewed sense of hope. The men of Gondor rallied once more, and held the orcs back.

"I do not know if this is enough," Boromir said, pushing his hair off of his face. "The men of Rohan are skilled, but can we do this on our own?"

"We don't have to," Maggie smiled, and pointed into the distance, where black sails were emerging from the mist over the waters. "Aragorn comes."

The Dead Army streamed off of the ships, and the ghostly figures overwhelmed the orc forces in a matter of minutes.

Maggie noticed the black figure of the Witch King sweeping across the battlefield in front of the city, and a tiny, lone figure in the distance challenging him. She smiled to herself.

"Éowyn," she breathed. Boromir looked at her, puzzled, and returned to the front line, holding the gate as the riders of Rohan and the ghostly figures cut through the army of Mordor from behind.

The Witch King let out a mighty shriek, and Maggie grinned as he folded into himself, screaming an otherworldly scream, and disintegrated.

She grabbed her horse, and rode up to the top level to retrieve her medical supplies.

Her job was far from over.

...

In the House of Healing, Maggie and Aragorn worked through the exhaustion of the day, ministering to the injured and dying to the best of their abilities.

As she came to Éowyn's unconscious body, she saw Éomer rush in.

"No!" he shouted, running to her side. He cradled his sister in his arms, crying out.

"She'll be fine," Maggie told him. "I need to set this bone, preferably before she wakes." Éomer released the blonde girl, and rounded on Maggie in anger.

"This is your fault," he snarled. "Putting ideas in her head about the role of women. I hold you responsible."

"Éomer," Aragorn said warningly.

"Believe me, she had enough ideas of her own," Maggie told him. "Maybe I gave her a little more confidence in her abilities, but she would have done this anyway. And good thing, too. She defeated the Witch King. On her own. Be proud of her."

She finished tying a splint to her arm, and moved away to let Aragorn bathe her wounds.

As she moved to the next injured soldier, Boromir entered the room, and looked around for his brother. Faramir was still unconscious, but Maggie had tended to his burns, and she walked over to check on him as his brother stood at his bedside, looking nervous.

"He'll be fine," Maggie reassured him.

"I'm not so worried about him," Boromir said. "My father is dead. This means..."

"Technically, you're the new Steward of Gondor?" Maggie smiled. "Don't fret about it. The king has returned, and he isn't planning on going anywhere. Now, help me get this helmet off of this soldier..."

As they peeled the helm and brushed back the blond hair, Maggie gasped.

"Haldir!" she cried, immediately taking in his different armour and the massive bump on his head. She waved her vial of ammonium carbonate under his nose. He roused, coughing. "You idiot!" she scolded. "You shouldn't have come!"

"I'm fine," he murmured.

"I'll be the judge of that," she said, peeling his breastplate off, nattering at him the entire time. Boromir smiled, and began to bathe his brother's forehead with cool water, sitting vigil at his bedside.

...

A/N: There we go! First of hopefully many updates this week! Our tale is inching ever closer to the end.

Last chapter's song: Mirrors by Justin Timberlake, guessed by Anna the Lynx.


	22. All the pleasure is worth all the pain

...

A/N: Sorry about the short update last time, hopefully this will satisfy a bit better. Smutty at the end. Rawr.

...

Chapter Twenty-Two - All the pleasure is worth all the pain

...

More soldiers in various states of injury trickled in throughout the night. Aragorn's skills with Elvish healing combined with his use of athelas, teamed up with Maggie's scientific methods meant that injuries were quickly and efficiently tended to. While certain of her medical stores were running low, especially the high-dose painkillers that she was reluctant to use up, with Aragorn's help, they devised herbal alternatives from the Elvish medicine text, including willow bark tea, and something Maggie suspected had similar properties to morphine - a whitish, milky substance that brought relief from the worst pain.

She was generous with her antibiotic salve, and there seemed to be few infections, much to her relief. These orcs seemed less well-equipped than those at Helm's Deep as far as poisoned arrows went.

She looked up sadly as one of the soldiers told Aragorn about Théoden's death. He shook his head, and instructed them to retrieve his body immediately.

Maggie wiped the sweat from her brow with her dirty sleeve, and pushed her hair off of her face. She looked around, and smiled to herself as she saw Boromir sitting in a chair next to Faramir's bed, face down leaning over the mattress in an exhausted sleep.

She decided to let them be for now, and turned to Aragorn, who was ushering in two men bearing a third on a makeshift stretcher of Maggie's design. She took a second glance when she noticed Pippin creeping in, barely chest-height to the other men, with Merry slung across his shoulders.

"Merry!" she cried. "Thank goodness, I was starting to worry. Are you hurt?"

"A few bumps and bruises," he replied, coughing. "But I'll live."

"Here, come over to the table, I'll check and make sure no ribs are broken of anything," she lifted him up onto a large kitchen table that she'd been using for examining, and Pippin stood on a stool next to it to help him out of his shirt. Maggie took some antiseptic and dabbed at his split lip.

"Ouch," he hissed. "That stings!"

"It'll be worse if it gets infected," she replied seriously, and made him draw a few deep breaths as she gently pressed on his ribs. "Nothing broken, I don't think. You'll be pretty sore tomorrow, though, they're definitely bruised. Damn, I wish I had some ice. Well, here's a cold compress, hold this to your ribs for a while, it might help a bit. And take these," she dumped two Tylenol into his hand. "Now scoot, I have hordes of men waiting for tending, and Aragorn'll freak if I don't get back to that."

As she turned away, Pippin cleared his throat. She turned back, and his eyes flicked over to Boromir and Faramir.

"Is he...?" Pippin asked, overwhelmed with emotion. "Does he know?"

"They'll both be okay," she patted his shoulder. "Faramir doesn't know yet, he's still out. I should actually try to wake him now." Pippin gulped back tears. "It wasn't your fault, Pip," she said reassuringly, reading his thoughts.

"I just don't want them to hate me," Pippin admitted quietly. "I... I should have gone for Gandalf sooner. But Lord Denethor... he struck the nurse who was watching him, and the next thing I knew, he was tugging Faramir out of the bed."

"Pippin," Maggie said gravely. "I'll only say this once more: it wasn't your fault. You saved Faramir's life. And neither he nor Boromir will blame you. I promise," she ruffled his hair. "If one of them does, I'll tear him a new asshole. That's a promise from me."

Pippin choked out a laugh, and Merry clapped him on the back.

"Now, if you two wanna make yourselves useful, could you try and rustle up some food for me and Aragorn? He's wearing himself to the bone on this, but I'd feel better if he ate something, even if he won't sit down," she sighed.

"Pot, kettle," Merry teased.

"Shoo," she said, waving the bottle of peroxide threateningly. "Before I decide to disinfect your eyes."

The two hobbits set off, bantering playfully back and forth, and Maggie chuckled to herself before rolling up her sleeves and getting back to work.

...

Soon, they had done all they could, and the king and the medic collapsed in chairs in front of the fire, leaving the tending to the nurses for the time being. Soon, plates of hot food borne by Merry and Pippin appeared. Pippin handed Maggie a steaming mug.

"Tea," he said, and handed another to Aragorn. "I haven't seen a hot cup of tea since leaving the Shire, don't think the Elves like it much."

"Thank you, Pippin," Maggie grinned, blowing off the steam and taking a sip. "That's the stuff, mmm. My grandma always said the first thing to do in a crisis was make a pot of tea."

"Your grandma was a smart lady," Merry smiled.

"You guys go rest," she said. "We're gonna have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, too, so scoot."

After eating, Maggie and Aragorn caught brief naps in their chairs, before being summoned to the hall by Gandalf. Boromir joined them in the entryway. Gandalf looked up as they entered, and the group gathered close together. Éomer was also present, though the hobbits were not.

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight," Gandalf admitted. "The darkness is deepening."

"If Sauron had the Ring," Aragorn mused. "We would know it." Maggie nodded in assent.

"He doesn't have it," she said.

"It's only a matter of time," Gandalf responded. "He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping."

"Let him stay there!" Gimli growled. "Let him rot! Why should we care?"

"Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," Gandalf rumbled, pausing to let those words sink in. "I've sent him to his death."

"No," Aragorn shook his head. "There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"How?" Gimli asked, around a mouthful of smoke. Maggie tapped her near-empty pack of cigarettes, and stuck one in her mouth, nodding at Aragorn.

"Draw out Sauron's armies," he said. "Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

Gimli choked on his pipe.

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms," Éomer said, shocked.

"Not for ourselves," Aragorn revealed. "But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

"A diversion," Legolas said.

"Certainty of death, small chance of success, what are we waiting for?" Gimli shrugged.

"Sauron will suspect a trap," Gandalf said. "He will not take the bait."

"Oh, I think he will," Aragorn replied, grinning an almost creepy smile.

"This whole adventure has been a crapshoot from day one," Maggie shook her head. "Do you really think this sounds any crazier than getting an army of the dead to march for us, or facing off against a Balrog?"

"The lady has a point," Gimli said.

"Aragorn?" she smiled at him. "Go do your thing."

He smiled back at her, and headed off to find a certain Palantir. Boromir raised an eyebrow at her, and she linked arms with him.

"Come on," she said, leading him away. "Let's go wake up your brother."

...

In the House of Healing, Maggie waved smelling salts under Faramir's nose. He finally roused - fully, this time. He'd come to enough for Maggie to assess his head injury and dose him with painkillers, but no one had yet told him about his father's death.

"I had the strangest dream," he rasped, as Boromir helped him sip some water. "I dreamt Father was burning alive."

"It was not a dream, Faramir," Boromir said, in a low voice. "Father is dead. His mind broke, he thought both of us were dead, and tried to burn you alive, and himself with you."

Faramir's eyes widened, and he looked up at his brother. "But doesn't that mean...?"

"It doesn't matter," Boromir cut him off. "The King has returned. Our job is done; we must wait for Aragorn to assign us new tasks. But for now, I will be marching on Mordor at his side, and if something is to happen to me..." He trailed off.

"I understand," Faramir said. "I wish I could march with you, Brother. I shall feel quite useless in here."

"Oh, I think you'll find something to do," Maggie's eyes twinkled, as she looked across the room at the blonde woman sitting on the windowsill, looking sadly out over the city. Éowyn turned, and Maggie met her eyes, summoning her over with a crook of her finger. "Éowyn, this is Faramir, Boromir's brother. Faramir, this is Éowyn, niece of Théoden, sister of Éomer, and slayer of Nazgûl." Faramir looked shocked, and Éowyn blushed hotly, hiding behind her curtain of hair. "There, now you're introduced properly, we have things to do. Come, Boromir."

She smacked him on the butt and dragged him away by his sleeve, grinning to herself as the two perplexed invalids stared after them.

"Did that just happen?" Éowyn asked, incredulously.

"I think so," Faramir replied.

...

Boromir took Maggie through the winding halls of the citadel, and led her to his old chambers. He ordered hot water, and filled a large linen-lined copper tub from the cauldrons that were brought himself.

"Come," he commanded. "Let us wash the battlefield off of us, and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day." He sighed deeply, then shook off the grief and focused on his woman.

Maggie smiled at him, pulling her sweatshirt off, and peeling off the rest of her clothes as she walked to the tub. He watched her intently as she slipped into the steaming water, sinking underneath and emerging with her hair slicked back. She beckoned to him with a finger, and he began to strip off his tunic, having shed his armour earlier. He stepped into the tub, sinking down between her knees, with his back pressed against her chest.

"Hot water, what heaven," he groaned, as she cupped her hands and poured water over his head, lathering his hair and raking her fingers against his scalp, saturating it fully, and then rinsing. "I'm not sure anything feels as good as your fingers through my hair," he sighed.

"Maybe this?" Maggie flirted, slipping her hand underneath the water and sliding it towards his groin.

"You little minx," he gasped, then laughed. "I would have thought you'd be too tired for these games."

"Never," she replied. "Besides, sex releases endorphins, endorphins make you happy, and they relax you. We've both been on a high all day, we'll sleep better."

"You make it sound incredibly romantic," he teased.

"I'm nothing if not a scientist," she replied, matter-of-factly.

"I don't know what these in-dolphins of yours are," he said, turning around and running the bar of soap between her breasts. "But I think I want some."

Maggie giggled, and tackled him into the water, sending a splash over the cold stone floor. Boromir shook his head at her, spraying droplets of water into her face, and pulled her in for a kiss. He pulled back, and drew the soap along her back, memorizing the feel of her slick skin with his fingers. Soon, they were both clean, though the water was not.

"Let's go to bed," Boromir stood up, reaching out his hand to help her stand. He emerged from the tub, naked and dripping wet, and held out a bath sheet for her to step into, before slinging one around his waist and padding across the floor to the bed, leaving a path of wet footprints. Maggie dried herself off a little more thoroughly before following him, chuckling as he rubbed his wet hair with the sheet, making it stand up wildly. He tackled her onto the bed, as she held the bath sheet close around her body. He grasped it with both hands, and pulled it off, leaving her naked in the firelight.

"Beautiful," he said, leaning over her and kissing her again. "It feels like an eternity since I've seen you like this." She drew her bare foot up his calf, and he shivered as she ran her fingers down his spine. He cupped her breast with one hand, running a thumb over the hardening nipple and sliding it down her ribs onto her flat stomach, grazing the raised gooseflesh there. She tangled her hands in his wet hair, and drew him down to her breasts, which he paid close attention to, swirling his tongue around them and kissing a gentle path down her belly, before dipping his head between her thighs. She gasped in delight, and he chuckled into her.

"Come here," she held her arms open, and drew him close to her, cradling his head against her shoulder as he slipped inside of her. They tangled together quickly, desperately, a prayer on her lips as she collapsed over the edge and he tumbled after her, crying out.

They curled around each other and slept deeply.

...

A/N: Hope to be back later this week. :) Next chapter will have more Haldir silliness, and a march on the Black Gate.

To answer a reviewer's question: this will continue on past canon, but it will have to end sometime. I'm also mulling over another story involving Haldir. We'll see. ;)

I made a mistake last chapter, song was also guessed by horseyyay, who also guessed last chapter's song: Rolling in the Deep by Adele.


	23. The devil he had three aces and a king

...

A/N: Things have been a bit on the nutty side lately, so unfortunately I've not had time to update. I'm going to aim for once a week for the next month, so that I don't give these sporadic updates so much.

Borys, you get your Leonard Cohen this time.

...

Chapter Twenty-Three - Well the devil he had three aces and a king

...

The lovers awoke still tangled around each other in the rising grey dawn, rising from their bed and preparing to ride for Mordor.

Boromir was especially sober, and he sat on the edge of the bed, spinning his sword over in his hands. Maggie stood in front of him and bent over, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and brushing his hair out of his eyes. He smiled at her sadly.

"This may well be our last day," she said softly. "There is no certainty of our survival. Neither of us are essential to this tale, and this will be the last battle for Middle Earth."

"Do you trust Aragorn?" Boromir looked into her eyes, which were a stormy grey in the dim light. "Do you think he can lead my country to victory?"

"I trust him with all of my being," she replied, sitting down next to him. "As I trust you, and Gandalf, and even poor Frodo and Sam, so far from home and so alone. Aragorn knows that this is his hour, to lead his people to victory. He may have been raised by elves, and not in Gondor as you have been, but the blood of your people runs in his veins, and he won't fail them."

He smiled slightly, and leaned his head on her shoulder.

"I miss my father," he said softly. "I wish you could have known him as he was when I was a child, before he turned bitter."

"You will never meet my parents, or my grandparents," she replied. "But they made me who I am, as your father made you who you are. I see him through you, as the good and bad of his character moulded you into the man you are."

"How are you so wise?" he smiled at her, and took her hand.

"I dunno," she shrugged. "I listened to my grandma too much?"

He chuckled, and kissed her gently.

"I have a question for you," he said quietly. "If we get out of this alive."

"Ask it when we do," she replied. "Tomorrow is a new dawn, and we will fight to see it." He nodded at her.

"Will you sing me something?" Boromir asked. "In case I don't get to hear it again?"

She smiled at him, thinking, then began to sing.

"I heard there was a secret chord  
That David played and it pleased the Lord,  
But you don't really care for music, do you?  
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth  
The minor fall, the major lift,  
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof  
You saw her bathing on the roof  
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you  
She tied you to a kitchen chair  
She broke your throne, she cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe I've been here before  
I know this room, I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew you  
I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
Love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know  
What's real and going on below  
But now you never show it to me, do you?  
And remember when I moved in you?  
The holy dark was moving too  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe there's a God above  
And all I ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you  
And it's not a cry you can hear at night  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah."

He looked up at her, tears shining in his eyes.

"What does that mean, hallelujah?" he asked.

"Officially, it means 'praise God'," she told him. "But it has many different meanings now, an expression of joy, or sorrow, or praise. Mostly it's an expression of joy or thankfulness."

"Hallelujah," he rolled the word around in his mouth, and then hugged her to him.

They sat in silence a moment, then rose and went out to meet the mustering army.

...

Aragorn was mounted on Brego, for the first time in weeks not wearing his grubby leather Ranger surcoat. Instead he wore chain mail, and leather armour with the white tree of Gondor stamped on the front. His hair was pulled back in a half-ponytail, and Brego stamped his foot, also wearing gleaming armour, as Maggie and Boromir approached. Two boys led their horses out of the stable.

Maggie pulled herself up onto Charismatic, and Boromir mounted Hasufel. She was dressed in the leather armour she'd worn at Helm's Deep, pulled over her tank top with her hoodie over it. She wore her jeans and combat boots, and stuck out like a sore thumb as usual. Her crossbow was slung across her back, and her handgun, with it's precious few rounds left, was in it's place on her hip. She felt like some strange mixture of cowgirl and knight, but she wasn't going to miss this for the world.

"Here, take this," Legolas walked past her then, and handed her a long Elvish knife. "From Haldir."

Maggie grinned at him, and stuck the sheath through her belt.

"He's staying out of trouble this time, is he?" she chuckled.

"Not by choice," Legolas replied. "If he could get up on a horse, he'd be out here with us."

"He knows I'd beat his ass down if he even tried," Maggie snickered. "I'm pretty sure he's somewhat terrified of me now."

"Much like the rest of us," Gimli added smoothly. Maggie made a face at him. Boromir turned a laugh into a cough, and caught a mischievous glint in Aragorn's eyes.

"Ah, here's Gandalf," Aragorn said, as the white wizard appeared, flanked by his two hobbit friends and Éomer.

"You look kingly," Gandalf said fondly. Aragorn smiled, and Gandalf and Éomer mounted their horses, lifting the hobbits up with them. Legolas mounted in front of Gimli.

"Ready?" Aragorn asked his company.

"As ready as ever," Maggie replied. "Let's go get 'em."

They rode out of the city, followed by the combined armies of Gondor and Rohan, and marched toward the black cloud that was Mordor.

...

They approached the Black Gate, which stood silent and forbidding before them. Aragorn ordered the army to stand back, while he rode forward with the remnants of the Fellowship and the new king of Rohan, his standardbearer flanking them to the right.

"Where are they?" Pippin asked worriedly, as they waited before the gates. Maggie sucked in a breath, swallowing her battle nerves.

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Aragorn rode forward and yelled. "Let justice be done upon him!"

A few tense moments passed, and finally the gate cracked open, and a dark, terrifying figure emerged on a great black horse.

"My master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome," said the figure, grinning to reveal a huge mouth full of rotting fangs. "Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?"

"We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed," Gandalf scoffed. "Tell your master this: The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."

"Old Greybeard," the Mouth of Sauron sneered. "I have a token I was bidden to show thee." He pulled out Frodo's mithril coat, and tossed it at Gandalf, who looked at it in horror.

"Frodo," Pippin said. "Frodo!"

"No!" Merry cried.

"Silence!" Gandalf barked.

"No!" Merry repeated in shock.

"Silence!" Gandalf snapped.

"The Halfling was dear to thee, I see," the Mouth mocked. "Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host. Who would've thought one so small could endure so much pain? And he did, Gandalf. He did."

"Bullshit," Maggie shot back. The Mouth of Sauron turned and cocked his head sideways. Aragorn approached him.

"And who is this? Isildur's heir? It takes more to make a king than a broken Elvish blade," the creature mocked. He soon found himself a head shorter, as Aragorn drew his sword and knocked it off with one swift stroke.

"I guess that concludes negotiations," Gimli quipped. Boromir snickered, watching his king in amusement.

"I do not believe it," Aragorn said, returning to them. "I will not."

"As well you don't," Maggie told him seriously. "He thinks he's got the best hand, but he's bluffing."

The orcs started to march towards them through the gates. Aragorn swung around on his horse.

"Pull back, pull back!" He commanded, riding back to the standing army. The Eye of Sauron swung around to watch them, as the kings of Gondor and Rohan prepared to fight.

They sent their horses to the back, and joined the foot soldiers at the front line. Cavalry stayed at the back, armed with lances and ready to strike.

"Hold your ground!" Aragorn commanded, as an enormous army emerged, larger than any they had yet faced. "Hold your ground!"

The men stared out at him, fear written all over their faces.

"Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers!" Aragorn shouted. "I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day! An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down. But it is not this day. This day, we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!" He drew his sword, and the men did the same, encouraged by their king.

"Hallelujah!" Maggie cheered, throwing her arm up in the air. "Preach it, Aragorn!"

They turned to watch the army marching toward them, and braced for impact.

"Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an Elf," Gimli said.

"What about side by side with a friend?" Legolas shot back, smirking.

"Aye, I could do that," Gimli replied.

"Get a room, you two," Maggie teased. "And stop this talk about dying."

"Against this army? How do you suppose we're getting out of this in one piece, lass?"

"Easy," Maggie replied. "We're on the side of the right. Good versus evil, and good will win the day."

"I hope to the Valar that you are right," Legolas said seriously.

"Our Father, who art in heaven," Maggie started. "Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen."

Boromir looked at her curiously.

"My old commanding officer used to recite the Lord's Prayer before every battle," she explained. "If someone is watching over us, it can't hurt to ask him for a little help."

"Hallelujah," he murmured at her. She smiled.

The Eye of Sauron focused on Aragorn then, and he stared blankly at it for a moment, before turning and giving them a sly smile.

"For Frodo," he said, then turned and surged forward, his sword drawn. Merry and Pippin ran after him, letting out a battle cry as they disappeared back into the surge of soldiers who followed their king.

Maggie drew her gun and cocked it.

"Let's roll," she said to Boromir, and ran forward to meet the orcs with her man tight on her right shoulder, sword drawn and ready to fight.

...

A/N: I will leave it there for now. The final battle begins. Maybe I'll get another out this week, as it is a long weekend. We shall see.

Last chapter's song: The Right Kind of Wrong by Leann Rimes.


	24. Look for the girl with the broken smile

...

A/N: I spent all day in bed with another bloody migraine, now it's the middle of the night and I'm wide awake. Might as well be productive.

We're coming to the end of the canon material, so things are gonna go flying off the rails soon. Hold on to your hats.

...

Chapter Twenty-Four - Look for the girl with the broken smile

...

The two sides met with a resounding clash, followed by screams of pain and the sound of tearing flesh. Above the din, a few resounding cracks of gunshot could be heard.

"Kiyah!" Maggie shouted, as she tore into an orc with the Elven blade she wielded in her left hand, and fired more rounds with the handgun in her right. "That's fuckin' right!"

The battle frenzy was taking the whole combined armies of Gondor and Rohan. On her right, Boromir was swinging his sword and bashing heads with his shield, hollering encouragements to the men around him.

Maggie looked up, hearing a great squeal from above. Nazgûl were closing in, circling lower and lower on their flying black beasts. A different cry came from the distance, one that seemed familiar yet completely alien.

"Eagles!" she heard Pippin shout, from somewhere in the chaos. "The eagles are coming!"

She looked to her left and saw Gandalf, sword gripped in both hands, smile in triumph.

"Come on, men!" she shouted, her voice hoarse. "We're almost there! It's almost over! Steady on, boys!"

She heard Éomer and Aragorn shouting orders somewhere behind her, and surged forward again, flicking loose the empty clip and sliding in her very last one. She kissed the barrell of her gun, and fired the last shots into approaching orcs, felling them all. She used the butt of the gun to bash a helmet in, then dropped the handgun, wrapping both hands around the hilt of the gleaming elvish blade, dripping with orc blood, and slammed it into flesh.

The ground rumbled beneath their feet. Screams of fear erupted across the army, and suddenly a great screech sounded from the Great Eye. Sauron's troops all stopped, turning to stare in horror as the tower of Barad-dûr began to crumble and fall. The orcs, a few firing arrows in a last desperate barrage, turned and ran back in through the Black Gate.

"Frodo!" Merry cheered. "Frodo!"

"You've done it, little one," Boromir breathed, as a great explosion blew out from the dying Eye. The Black Gate collapsed, and the lands beyond began to crumble.

There was another great rumble, and the top of the fiery volcano in the distance erupted. They watched in horror, knowing that Sam and Frodo were right in the middle of the rain of fiery rocks and lava.

It was then that Boromir turned and saw Maggie.

...

...beep...beep...beep...

The electrical smell of tinned oxygen stung her nostrils and throat from the mask strapped over her face. A tube was running down her nose. Her head hurt, her mouth felt like a sock was stuffed in it. She knew she was bruised and battered, and her eyelids fluttered gently.

"Maggie?" she heard a husky voice say from next to the bed. She squinted, focusing slowly on the figure by the bed.

"Jeff?" her voice rasped, through cracked and parched lips. She pulled on her wrists, only to find they were fastened to the bed rails with soft restraints.

"Shh!" the fireman admonished, desperately pressing the nurse call button. The intercom crackled to life.

"Yes?" the disembodied female voice said.

"I think your coma patient is awakening," Jeff told her, his voice breaking with emotion.

"One moment," the voice said. Seconds later, a nurse in green scrubs ran into the room, followed by another pushing a rattling vitals cart. The nurse leaned over Maggie, flashing a light into her eyes. She nodded at the second nurse.

"Go call Dr. Fisher," she ordered, and the second nurse ran back out to the nursing station.

...

Boromir knelt beside the crumpled form of his lover. He gathered her to his chest, wailing when he saw an arrow sticking out of her chest.

A violet energy crackled around her, smelling like the air just before a storm. Tears filled his eyes as he looked down at her, her face peaceful and calm.

Aragorn came jogging over, and slid down next to his friend, his armour clanking.

"She's alive," he confirmed, checking her pulse.

"Do not touch her!" Gandalf commanded, running up to them. "This may be black magic.

"I already have," Boromir growled back. Gandalf shook his head, and closed his eyes, holding his hand out over the energy. It crackled louder and more furiously, but nothing happened.

"We need to get her to Minas Tirith," Aragorn commanded. "Quickly. I need to remove that arrow."

Boromir nodded, and lifted her in his arms.

...

"Can you hear me?" the nurse asked.

"Yes," Maggie rasped.

"Do you know who you are?"

"Margaret Campbell," she replied. Jeff's eyes filled with tears.

"Excuse me," he said. "I have to go call the boys."

"Do you remember how you got here?"

"I was hit by a..." Maggie furrowed her brow, and gasped as memories flowed back into her brain, of a man from a far away land, and a love she couldn't have just dreamt. She braced for the emotional impact, shutting her eyes and shaking her head.

"You were in a car accident," the nurse said gently. "Don't worry, a lot of people don't remember getting a head injury. You've been in a coma."

"How long?" Maggie asked, her voice heavy.

"Almost three weeks," Jeff answered, coming back into the room. "Christ, Maggie. We thought you were dead. Me and the boys have taken turns sitting with you, one of us has been here every day."

"Three weeks?" she squeaked. Her head ached a bit, and her eyes felt gritty. She tried to sit up, only to be pressed back into the bed by the nurse.

"Don't move," the nurse said. "Not until the doctor sees you. He'll want you to have another MRI."

"Glad to have you back," Jeff squeezed her hand, and sat on the edge of the bed. "We weren't sure what was happening. You didn't have a brain haemorrhage, the doctors have no idea why you were in a coma." The nurse was strapping a spyghmomanometer to her arm.

"Not too much too fast," the nurse chided.

"She's an EMT, she understands medical jargon," the fireman rebuffed. "You can't hide anything from her."

"Someone should inform her next-of-kin," the nurse said, glaring at him. He flashed her a cheeky smile.

"Alan's already on it. Her cousin's probably on his way here now."

A man in green scrubs and a lab coat walked through the door, carrying a clipboard. He has grey hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and wore bright blue Converse sneakers. Maggie liked him right away.

"Well, this is good news," he said. He clicked on a flashlight and looked into her eyes. "Follow the light. Good. Do you know your name?"

"Maggie Campbell," she said, around the tube in her throat. "Why am I strapped down?"

"You kept trying to rip out the nasogastric tube, sorry," the doctor shrugged, and undid the straps. "You're surprisingly lucid for a patient just waking from a coma. I'm ordering an MRI ASAP, this whole case has been strange."

"Jeff said," Maggie smiled weakly. She pawed the oxygen mask off to the side.

"You broke a couple of ribs, but apart from that and the head injury, you only had some minor lacerations and contusions, the stitches have already come out of most of them. You've been incredibly lucky, Miss Campbell. There was no real intracranial pressure, no subdural hematoma, no haemorrhaging of any kind. None of the neuro team can figure out why you were in a coma, really. We're gonna want to watch you for a couple of days, but apart from your being unconscious, if we don't see any signs of traumatic brain injury, you can probably go home in a few days. If your MRI is clean, we'll get that tube out."

"Why am I on O's?"

"Your breathing was a bit shallow," he said. "The rib injury probably constricted your lungs a bit. If the tube comes out I'll give you a nasal cannula for at night, but if your O2 stays stable, you won't need it." He looked at the monitor on the side of the bed. Her pulse was good, her O2 stats were within the normal range, and the nurse showed him her BP reading, which was also good. "You're healthier than me, really. Okay, I'm gonna go get that MRI."

The doctor rushed off, and the nurse stuck a thermometer under her tongue. When it beeped, she hmm'ed under her breath, then handed Maggie the call button.

"If you need anything, call," she said. "I'm the head nurse on duty today, my name is Sandy, ask for me directly."

"Okay," Maggie said quietly.

"I'm so glad you're back, sweetie," Jeff grinned at her, pulling the chair up to the edge of the bed.

"What's the scuttlebutt around the house?" she asked, looking for a distraction from the rush of images in her head.

Jeff began to fill her in on all of the news, like a catty old lady. Firemen were pretty enthusiastic gossips.

...

The woman's body lay in the bed in Boromir's room, crackling still with the strange purple energy. Gandalf sat in an armchair, smoking his pipe. Frodo was recovering in his own room, as was Sam. Boromir paced in front of the fireplace. Aragorn leaned against the wall, still in his armour. The two hobbits sat at the foot of the bed. Gimli was also in a chair, Legolas perched on the armrest.

"Do you have any idea what this is?" Boromir asked. "One of the men said she was hit in the shoulder by an arrow, then was just engulfed in this bizarre violet light."

"It is a magic I am not sure I understand," Gandalf replied wearily. "She is not in danger from the wound, and there is no poison. But she appears to be in some form of stasis. I will need more time to think on it."

"By the Valar I hope she will live," Legolas murmured.

"She will," said Pippin.

"She's a tough lass," Gimli added.

"I wonder if this is not some form of Sauron's black magic," Aragorn mused. Gandalf blew out a ring of smoke and nodded.

"By all accounts she fell at the same time he did," Gandalf nodded. "It does not seem to affect those who touch her, though I wish we hadn't found that out by grabbing her," he glared at Boromir, who crossed his arms and jutted out his chin defiantly. "We shall have to nurse her to the best of our ability, until I can think of what to do."

"There must be some spell," Merry asked.

"Perhaps," Gandalf said. "Perhaps. Now, it has been a long day for all. I believe it is time for you all to rest."

"No," Boromir shook his head. "I'll not sleep when she is like this."

"Yes you will," a voice said from the doorway. The group turned, and Haldir was standing there. "Elves do not need the same kind of sleep as Men, and I have been resting for many days, unlike Legolas, who has been in battle. I will sit with her. I promise to wake you if anything changes. Have a pallet made up on the floor, you shan't have to leave the room."

"See sense, Boromir," Aragorn placed his hand on his comrade's shoulder. "You'll do her no good if you drop from exhaustion yourself."

Boromir's shoulders sagged in defeat.

"Very well," he conceded. He turned to Haldir. "You will wake me the second anything changes, for good or ill."

"You have my word," the blond-haired elf nodded.

...

A/N: *cackles madly*

Last chapter's song: Spanish Train by Chris de Burgh, guessed by horseyyay.


	25. Now I remain in a world apart

...

A/N: I'm a bit evil. *snerks*

More Haldir shenanigans afoot.

...

Chapter Twenty-Five - Now I remain in a world apart

...

Maggie was exhausted. She'd been dragged into an MRI machine, lying still in the claustrophobic magnetic prison for almost an hour as it whirred, clicked and beeped in her ears. Then, she'd been returned to her room, where Jeff and all of the firehouse men - save those who were manning it - came to visit, bringing an enormous basket of flowers. Jeff had gone to Maggie's house while she was in the MRI, and returned with some books and other necessities. Her phone was gone - destroyed in the accident - so she had no Internet access, but they had rented the small hospital television for her, which was currently blaring Wheel of Fortune.

The nurse finally ushered the visitors out, declaring that Maggie needed her rest, and proceeded to remove the nasogastric tube, which was a particularly disgusting and awkward procedure.

"You'll have breakfast in the morning," she said. "For now, just clear fluids. I'll have an orderly bring you some broth and tea, maybe some Jello. Any nausea?"

Maggie shook her head, her stomach growling.

"Good. I'll do your vitals, then order your food for you."

"Thank you."

...

Maggie scooped the last of the red Jello into her mouth, and put the plastic cup down on the tray, trying not to scratch at her IV. She sighed, and used the remote to lean the bed back. She tried to get comfortable, then resigned herself to watching some terrible reality TV show.

...

Haldir sat on the edge of the bed, one leg folded underneath him. He looked at Maggie, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but for the underlying crackle of energy. It unnerved him, as did most forces in the universe that the elf did not understand. He knew Lord Elrond was on his way, and could perhaps assist Gandalf in retrieving her from stasis. At least, he hoped so. He missed her.

He shook his head, and took Maggie's hand.

"By the Valar," he murmured. "I hope we can find the answer."

...

_By the Valar, I hope we can find the answer._

Maggie shook her head, the voice invading her thoughts. It sounded so familiar, but, it couldn't be... Could it?

"Haldir?" she whispered.

...

_Haldir?_

Haldir jerked his hand back as if he had been burned, his eyes widening in shock. He took her hand again.

"Can you hear me?"

...

_Can you hear me?_

"Oh my god," Maggie said. "It wasn't a dream. Oh my god."

_Where are you?_

"I'm back in my world. In the hospital. As if nothing happened. Where are you?" she spoke in soft tones, trying not to make it look like she was talking to herself. She glanced around, then pulled the phone off the beside table, putting the receiver to her ear. The dial tone sounded, so she slipped the blanket over the base and held the hold button down underneath.

_I am sitting next to you, in Boromir's bedroom, in Minas Tirith. I am holding your hand, I think that is why I can communicate with you._

"How is he?"

_Worried. Your body is stable, you were hit by an arrow, it seems at the same time as Sauron was destroyed. There is some form of energy crackling around you, a deep purple-black aura. Gandalf is trying to figure out what it is. It feels sinister to me. I don't like it._

"The last thing I remember before waking up here is being hit and blacking out," she worried her bottom lip. "Can I get back there?"

_I don't know. I wish I had the answers for you. But I do not. That we can still communicate, and that your body is still present in this world - your connection is still strong. Perhaps with some assistance we can draw you back._

"I was heartbroken when I woke up," she whispered. "It was as if none of it happened, as if none of it were real... I almost wished I was dead."

_We are real, and we will do everything we can to care for your body while it is in stasis. I should go fetch Boromir..._

"No," Maggie said quickly. "Let him sleep. Please. Once he finds out there's a connection, he won't rest until a way is found to get me out of here."

_I shall tell him when he wakes, then._ Haldir's voice sounded amused. _But I am not taking the blame when he's furious._

"He's all bark and no bite," Maggie chuckled. Haldir snickered back at her. "How are you? I hope you've been resting."

_More than the others, and besides, I'm an elf. We don't sleep the same way as men do. I volunteered to sit with you tonight._

"Thanks, Haldir," tears stung Maggie's eyes, and her throat felt thick. "I thought I'd lost all of you. I woke up here, and my friends were here, but it doesn't feel right. I shouldn't be here."

_We will do all that we can. I'm going to let go of your hand, count to five, and you say something. I will see if I can hear it._

Maggie counted in her head. "Haldir?"

No answer.

_It seems that someone has to be touching you in order for this to work. Which means there is no way for you to initiate contact if you need to. Hmm._

"Well, I guess that means you're stuck with me."

_It is not terribly comfortable to be sitting on the side of your bed._

"So lie down," Maggie shrugged.

_And risk losing my head when Boromir catches me in bed with his unconscious lover? No, thank you._

"Don't be such a baby," Maggie scolded. "You don't have to spoon with me or anything. Just lie down and touch my hand or my arm or something. It's a big bed."

_Spoon?_

"Uh, you know, when you lay front to back with someone. Your knees nestle together, kind of like spoons."

_You are a strange girl. Very well._

"I should rest now. You should too. If you need me, yell, and vice versa. As long as you're touching my skin I'll probably wake you. Maybe fasten your hand to my arm if you're going to fall asleep or something."

_I won't fall asleep. _Haldir sounded indignant._ But you should rest, yes. Tomorrow we will try to figure out what to do._

"What time is it there?"

_It is well after midnight. Perhaps four hours until dawn breaks._

"Hmm. It's barely after dusk here. Time seems to move differently here. I was out for three weeks according to my world. But I was in Middle Earth for months."

_Curious. You should tell Gandalf._

"Haldir?"

_Yes?_

"Thank you for staying. It means a lot to me."

_You are most welcome. I owe you a debt of gratitude for my own life, Maggie. And your Fellowship will do anything they have to in order to bring you back._

Maggie put the phone back on the hook as the nurse came into the room.

"I need to do your vitals," she said. "Do you need something to help you sleep?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Maggie smiled.

_I'm sorry?_

"Are you finishing your shift? Who is the night nurse? Just so I know when I call," Maggie said, hoping that cleared it up.

_Ah, you're not alone. I am eavesdropping._

"Your night nurse is Kathleen. You only came out of a coma today, so we'll be keeping a close eye on you. We will have to wake you every couple of hours, sorry," the nurse winced as Maggie glared. "I know, it's no fun."

"I should be a better patient, I'm sorry. I'm taking out my frustrations on you. I've been on the receiving end of this often enough."

_This is getting interesting. I'm imagining what you've done to this poor nurse._

"Your friend said you're an EMT," the nurse smiled. "Don't worry, none of us are at our best in the hospital. Just don't throw a bedpan at me, and we'll be fine."

Maggie laughed. "Deal," she said. She furrowed her brow. "Do people really do that?"

"It's the best when they're full."

"Oh gross. It's bad enough dealing with barf, and we get plenty of that. But violence AND feces? No one deserves that abuse."

_What on earth?_

"That usually earns them a one way ticket to the psych ward," the nurse shook her head. "Anyway, that ends my shift. Your vitals are good. Try and get some rest, ring if you need anything."

"I will. Thank you."

The nurse rolled up the cord on her portable vitals cart, and headed out.

"Lights off?"

"Please."

The nurse clicked off the overhead light, leaving only the small reading lamp at the head of the bed, then closed the door behind her.

"Haldir?"

_I'm here. I don't even want to know what kind of animals you were discussing before. I think I feel ill._

"Remind me never to tell you my 'Horror Stories from Emergency Services'. Nurses and medics deal with more gore and grossness than you warrior types do."

_I do not wish to discuss this. Go to sleep._

Maggie chuckled, and clicked off her light. She pulled the blanket up, and curled up.

"Good night, Haldir."

_Good night, Maggie._

...

Haldir lay on the bed, having shifted Maggie's lifeless form over to make room. He lay on his back, one hand behind his head, the other entwined with hers. It felt very strange indeed.

He let his thoughts drift for a while, and began meditating as best he could. Always made him feel grounded.

_Boromir..._

He opened his eyes, hearing Maggie's gentle moan. Suddenly, images rushed into his head.

Very racy images.

It would appear she was dreaming.

He dropped her hand like it was on fire, and stared at her in horror.

"I didn't even know you could do that," he murmured, touching her hand gently with a finger. He didn't want to wake her, but nor did he feel like a pornographic show from her imagination was an appropriate thing to be witnessing.

He settled for touching her hand every few moments, to see where she was in the dream. Eventually, her dreams shifted, to images that disturbed him even more - walls painted a sickly shade of green, wires and tubes hanging all over the place, and odd men in white coats walking down long corridors.

He figured this must be from her world, so settled down to learn as much as he could about it.

...

A/N: I wonder what will happen in the morning...

Last chapter's song: She Will Be Loved by Maroon5. Guessed by Anna the Lynx.


	26. Return to sender, address unknown

...

A/N: Trying to write a little extra lately, keep my mind off of my personal life. My relationship is rapidly circling the drain, I'm not sure if it's going to get better, but writing takes my mind off of it, so there might be a little increase for now. (So does looking up pictures of Sean Bean. I think I need to start watching Sharpe.)

Love to all who read and review. Seeing names in my inbox makes me incredibly happy.

...

Chapter Twenty-Six - Return to sender, address unknown

...

Maggie was awakened just after dawn by a nurse with a vitals cart, who declared her fit enough to eat a proper breakfast.

"Haldir?" she asked quietly.

_I am here. Boromir and the others will be here shortly, I expect._

"Good," she said. "My breakfast is going to be here in a moment."

_Did you sleep well? I hope your health is returning?_

"Pretty good," she picked up the phone again, anticipating a fairly long conversation. "I have to go through more tests today, to see if there was any damage from the head injury, but apparently I might get to go home today. Which will make talking with you lot easier, I don't have to keep pretending I'm on the phone or risk looking like a crazy talking to myself."

_Dare I ask what a phone is?_

"Communication device, you talk to other people on it. As long as both people have one they can talk. Kind of like a Palantir but less spooky."

_Fair enough._

One of the food service staff showed up with a tray, and placed it on her table. She smiled, and mouthed a 'thank you' in her direction.

"Breakfast is here," she said. "I get real food this morning."

_You said you were completely unconscious for three weeks. Did they just not feed you?_

"No, they put in something called a nasogastric tube. It's a tube that goes through your nose, down your throat, and directly into your stomach. They pump a liquid diet through it. They took it out yesterday, but a lot of people are nauseous after they wake up from comas, so all I got for dinner was broth." She cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, and uncovered her tray.

_That does not sound like a particularly appealing thing to have, this tube._

"It's not bad once it's in, and I wasn't awake when they put it in. But it is really gross when they take it out," she flicked a packet of sugar, and stirred it into the steaming cup of coffee. She took a sip. "Ah, that's nectar. Middle Earth doesn't have coffee."

_Coffee?_

"It's a strong, bitter, heavily caffeinated drink. It's custom to drink it in the morning here, it wakes you up a bit. Like tea, but better. Has a bit of a nutty flavour. If I get out of here I'll bring you some from Timmie's."

_Exciting breakfast?_

"Lumpy grey oatmeal that does not look especially edible, two pieces of toast with peanut butter, and some fruit."

_Peanut butter?_

"It's a type of nut, you mash it up with oils and it becomes smooth and creamy. Delicious."

_Your food customs are pretty strange._

"You have no idea, honey," she grinned. "So, what did you do all night?"

_Lay here. Tried not to eavesdrop on your dreams._

"Eavesdrop on my... wait, what? I don't talk in my sleep!"

_Perhaps not, but it seems that when you are asleep, you transmit images to whomever is touching you, instead of merely words. Fascinating, really. I'll have to tell Gandalf about it. Don't worry, I won't give him details._

"I don't remember what I dreamt about," Maggie furrowed her brow. "Do I want to know? Nazgûl fight?"

_I would've eavesdropped on that. _Haldir chuckled. _No, I got to see inside your apparently dirty mind._

"What are you talking abo... Oh!" she suddenly had an image of the rather erotic dream she'd had last night. Leather, handcuffs and spanking were involved. She heard Haldir laughing through their mind-meld.

_Don't worry, I didn't stay for the whole show._ She could just hear him smirking. _But I probably won't be able to look your man in the eye for a long time._

Maggie laughed. "Pretty hunky, isn't he?"

_I'm not going to ask what you were doing with the whip. Oh, look, here they come._

...

Haldir kept his hand on Maggie's as the door opened, and Merry and Pippin tumbled through the door, followed by Aragorn, Boromir, and Gandalf.

"How is she?" Boromir asked, as he walked swiftly to her bedside and sat down. He touched her cheek gently. "Has she awoken?"

_I have, but not where you are._

He jerked his hand back as if it were on fire, and looked at Haldir with suspicion.

"What is this devilry?"

"If you touch her," Haldir told him. "And speak out loud, she can hear you. She is in her own world, in a hospital. She can't talk to us unless we're touching her, though. I found out last night."

"Why didn't you wake me?" Boromir's eyes darkened, as he took Maggie's hand. "I asked you to wake me if anything happened."

_He wanted to. I told him he'd find out what his left nut tasted like if he woke you up. And he's more scared of me than he is of you._

"With good reason," Haldir said smoothly, inspecting his fingernails.

Gandalf swept up to the side of the bed, and placed his hand on her forehead.

"Maggie?" he asked. "Can you hear me?"

_Gandalf! I'm back in my own world, and as I thought, my body was in stasis here. Time seems to pass a bit differently here, I've only been out three weeks here._

"Curious," Gandalf muttered. "Elrond should be arriving later today, for Aragorn's coronation."

Aragorn stepped forward then, and placed a hand on her bare arm.

"I want you to be here for this, and so I shall wait, as long as I have to," Aragorn said. "There is a connection between worlds, there MUST be a way back."

_Don't wait too long, Aragorn. Your people need you._

"My people need you, too."

"Can we hear her too?" Pippin piped up. At this point, Haldir had her left hand, Boromir her right, Gandalf had his hand on her forehead, and Aragorn was gripping her arm.

"You must be touching her skin," Boromir said.

_Jeez, this is becoming a conference call. Take my socks off, then you have my ankles._

Boromir did as she said, and a hobbit each grabbed an ankle.

"Maggie!" said Pippin.

"We miss you," chimed in Merry. "We're glad that you're okay, wherever you are."

_I miss you guys too. I'm glad I have a connection still. I may get to return home today, which would be a sight better than talking to myself in a hospital room._

"Your body here is crackling with a dark energy," Gandalf told her.

_Haldir said. There's nothing like that on this end. The only connection seems to be that my body is in two places at once. Both times that I travelled were during traumatic events - a storm, and the destruction of Sauron. I'm not saying I should go and chase down a tornado, but perhaps recreating some form of this can return me?_

"I will consult the libraries of Minas Tirith on the matter," the wizard said. "Though I doubt I will find anything there, that is where I must begin."

_Let me know if you find anything. I can look up just about anything once I get home. I might look and see if I can find some obscure Tolkien papers._

"Who is Tolkien?" Pippin asked.

_I told you that in my world, Middle Earth is a story. Well, it was supposedly created and written by Tolkien. I'm starting to wonder if maybe he has travelled between the worlds, and wrote about the circumstances of the War of the Ring because of this._

"Why don't you find him and ask him?" Haldir wondered.

_He's been dead for about forty years. Something tells me that would be hard. I could try and contact his son, but he must be nearly ninety years old himself, and I'd just sound like some kind of crazed weirdo. His father may never have told him. Also, the story has become somewhat of a global phenomenon here. Everyone has heard of it, even if they don't know details. Reaching him on that alone could be impossible. I will try._

"This is becoming more strange every moment," Aragorn scratched his chin. "We should search the archives for any mention of this Tolkien person. Any other names he might have gone by?"

_His full name was John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. There's something in my head, but I can't put my finger on it. I'll check my books when I get home._

"Very well, Maggie," Gandalf said. "One of us will stay with you, so that you may contact us with any information you have."

_Thanks, Gandalf. I don't feel like I really belong here, it's a strange sensation. Something fundamental is missing, and I'm pretty sure I won't feel whole again until I get back to Middle Earth._

Gandalf swept out of the room in a billow of white robes, calling over his shoulder.

"Merry, Pippin, perhaps you can assist me. Merry, go and fetch Legolas and Gimli. Scholars they may not be, but Gimli can read Dwarven texts and Legolas can be of great help with old Elvish ones. Pippin, fetch some parchment and a quill to keep here, so that if Maggie finds something, we can take notes."

The two hobbits jumped up, and followed the wizard out.

"I'm going to go find something to eat," Haldir said, getting up from the bed. Aragorn and Boromir stayed at Maggie's side, until Boromir spoke.

"Go, Aragorn," he said. "You have a kingdom to run. Perhaps, if my brother and Éowyn are feeling well enough, they will visit later?"

"I shall endeavour to ask them," Aragorn nodded. "Please let me know if there is anything that I can do."

Boromir smiled slightly at the king.

"I have a feeling we'll figure this out."

...

Over the next few hours, Maggie was submitted to some pretty gruelling neurological testing, which, combined with the peanut gallery echoing in her head, was beginning to give her a headache.

Jeff and Allan had showed up near dinner time, carrying a bag of clothing from Maggie's house.

"Get dressed," Jeff said. "The nurse said you're good to go home. I'm going to stay at your house tonight, just in case you need anything, but I think you'll be fine."

"Are you sure, Jeff?" Maggie worried her lower lip. "I'll be fine on my own. And wouldn't you rather be home with Melissa and the kids?"

"They're pretty used to me being gone for work," Jeff shrugged. "It's one night."

The nurse came in with some papers for her to sign, and shooed the firemen away to help her into her sweatpants and t-shirt. She removed the IV, and smiled at Maggie.

"You got really lucky," the nurse said. "You went from a coma to going home in under two days. I think that's a record."

"Yeah, I know. I can't figure it out myself. But I won't complain."

"You make sure that if you have any signs of degenerative neurological symptoms, you come to emergency right away, and present this paperwork," the nurse handed her an envelope. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Maggie grinned back.

She headed out the door.

...

Jeff drove Maggie home, and proceeded to poke around her kitchen.

"You have no food in your house," he complained, banging cupboards shut. "Do you even eat anything?"

"I was on shifts most of the week before the accident," Maggie shrugged. "I ate at the house. Also, I've been in a coma three weeks, not exactly like grocery shopping was a high priority."

Jeff winced, but laughed when he saw her face.

"Well, what do you feel like eating?" he leaned on the counter, running a hand through his hair.

"I'd kill for some Chinese food, actually," she said, pulling open the drawer at her kitchen table and pulling out menus.

"Sounds good," he said. "We'll call it in, I'll go pick it up and get some staples on the way."

Maggie poked through the menu, and Jeff called in their orders. He took his car keys out of his pocket, and looked at her before he headed out the door.

"When I get back, you'd better be on the couch," he warned.

"I know, I know," she said. He left, and she immediately went for her bookshelves. She pulled The Return of the King off of the shelf, flipping it open to the back.

"Boromir?"

_Alone at last?_

"Yeah," she replied absently. "Get something to write with."

_Ready when you are._

"Hmm, nothing specific in here," she scanned the document quickly. "I'm going to check somewhere else."

She grabbed her laptop from the desk, and plopped down on the couch with the book beside her. She googled Tolkien, and opened his Wikipedia page. She gasped.

_What is it?_

"Does the name Beren seem familiar to you?"

_Of course, why?_

"It's the name inscribed on Tolkien's grave. Lúthien is inscribed on his wife's."

_But that doesn't make sense. That story is centuries old, Elrond is a descendant of them. And both of them are long dead._

"I know, I know," she said. "But time doesn't move the same way in both universes. Maybe there is something to it, and they really died in my world."

_I wonder. I will send someone to tell Gandalf immediately. Perhaps it may help._

...

A/N: Well, things are getting interesting now, no?

Last chapter's song: Greensleeves.


	27. I just gotta get out of this prison cell

...

**A/N: THIS IS THE SECOND CHAPTER POSTED TODAY.** I'm on a roll now, it seems. Might as well take advantage of it!

I did a tiny edit on chapter fourteen. In it, I said that Maggie left her world in May. I've changed it to April for reasons that will emerge in this chapter. I've also edited the past couple of chapters because ate my italics.

Welcome, new readers! And welcome back, you guys who've been here since the beginning. Ya'll rock.

...

Chapter Twenty-Seven - I just gotta get out of this prison cell

...

Jeff had returned with dinner, which they'd devoured while watching the news channel. Maggie walked into the kitchen to toss her cardboard container and chopsticks, then stretched and yawned.

"I'm gonna go have a shower, Jeff, then I'm going to bed," she smiled at the blond man, who grinned back, then shoveled in another mouthful of General Tao. "The guest room at the front of the house should be ready for you, the sheets are clean. I'll put some towels on the bathroom counter for you. Oh, yeah, and the wireless password is my cell phone number, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Jeff said. "I know how grody you feel after being in the hospital. Just leave the bathroom door unlocked, 'kay? In case you get dizzy or pass out or something. I bust down enough doors at work as it is."

"Will do," she laughed. "And Jeff? Thanks for staying. You've been a real good friend."

"Nonsense," he waved her off. "You're like our little sister down at the house. And we know you don't really have much in the way of family. We gotta stick together, eh?"

"All the same, I appreciate it."

Maggie headed toward the creaking stairs off the kitchen of her old farmhouse. She'd bought it after her Grandad had died. She lived on the outskirts of town, close enough that it was a decent bike ride to the stores, but far enough that her closest neighbour was barely in shouting distance.

A grey and white cat sat on her stairs.

"Hi, Herman," she said, petting him on the way by. She didn't have pets of her own, but the house had come with a cat flap, and she'd never bothered to remove it, so the neighbour's cat, who mostly hung out in the barn between the two properties, would pop around for scritches and treats, especially if his owners were away. "What's news, pal? Momma and Poppa out of town again?"

Herman murred at her, weaving through her legs.

"I'll getcha something to eat, then," Maggie opened the cupboard, and pulled out a small tin of tuna. She popped it open and dumped half into a dish, putting it on the sisal door mat by the back door. Herman dove in with gusto. His owners usually left dry food in the barn, but she'd asked permission to give him goodies if he came around to visit. She scratched him behind his ears, as he purred contentedly.

She looked out the window above the sink at the wheat fields in the distance, and sighed.

In a lot of ways, she'd missed home. But it still didn't feel right.

She headed up the stairs to the only bathroom, decorated in blue and white tiles left over from the 1950's - the last time the kitchen had been remodelled. It was an old house, but everything was in pretty good shape. She had bought the house from a neighbouring farmer, who had sold the patch of land with the house and garage on it, and built himself a much larger, modern house further back on the property. His driveway marked one edge of her lawn, the other neighbours' barn marked the other.

"I'm alone now," Maggie murmured, as she stripped off her clothes, starting the shower and stepping into the blue tub, luxuriating under the hot spray.

_Who is Herman?_

"The neighbour's cat," she chuckled. "He comes by to visit sometimes."

Pippin came by not long ago. I sent him to Gandalf with the information you gave me. I don't know how much it will help. Aragorn said Elrond arrived today and has joined Gandalf in the archives.

"Good," Maggie said, lathering up her hair with vanilla scented shampoo. Her fingers raked over her scalp, scratching out the accumulated hospital grime. Her hair was much shorter in this world, which felt a bit strange. "How are you doing? You must be tired."

_I miss you,_ Boromir responded. _It's like you're here, but you're not. You look like you're sleeping. At least I can talk to you._

"Stay with me tonight," she rinsed off her hair. "I'm going to go to bed soon, so you should go get some food first, but you can stay with me. Haldir stayed by me last night, but I'd rather you stay."

_Very well. What are you doing now? Is your friend gone?_

"Nope, but the guest room is downstairs. He'll probably stay up for a while, check on me before he goes to bed."

_I don't know how much I like the idea of a strange man sleeping alone in the same house as you._

"He's not strange to me," Maggie told him, fumbling around with a cheap BIC razor. "I've known him longer than you. And he's married. Melissa is a darling, they have three kids. Believe me, he's trustworthy. He puts his life on the line for people every day. He just wants to make sure I'm okay. He's like a brother to me."

_I will trust your judgement. I know our worlds are different. I think this is just my traditions making me apprehensive._

"That's fair," Maggie shut off the spray, and pulled a towel off of the rack. "Jeff's a good guy. It'll be okay. He works tomorrow anyway, so he'll be gone by then, and I can spend some time doing research."

_The sooner we figure this out, the happier I will be._

"Me too," she smiled to herself. "I'm home, but I'm not. It isn't right."

_Home is not home without you._

Maggie wrapped a towel around herself, and padded barefoot into the master bedroom. She tugged open the antique dresser drawer, pulling out a t-shirt and boxer shorts, which she donned before slipping under the covers.

"I'm exhausted, Boromir," she told him. "It's been a long day for me, and my body here is extremely weak."

_I understand. Rest now, my love. I will see that you are not disturbed from this end unless it is absolutely necessary._

"Thank you," she murmured into her pillow. "Love you, Boromir."

...

Boromir left Maggie for a short while, trusting that she would be sleeping when he returned. He headed off to find some food, raiding the kitchens of some bread and fruit. Then he descended the spiralling staircases to the archives. The scent of ancient paper and ink filled his nostrils as he pushed open the large double doors.

Gandalf sat alone at a desk, with two candles dripping wax creating a small halo of light around him. Books with parchment sticking out here and there were piled on the desk, a chair, and the floor. Scrolls were unrolled, held down by a mug of tea.

"Gandalf?" Boromir said quietly. The wizard looked up in surprise.

"Boromir," he rumbled. "I trust Maggie is doing well? This has been a most interesting research session." He picked up an ancient codex from the pile, and thumbed it open. "Come, Boromir, and tell me what you think of this."

"What is it?" Boromir stood behind the wizard's chair, stooping to look over his shoulder at the text.

"A palimpsest from the First Age," Gandalf said. "See? The pages have been washed and written over, but the old text is beginning to reveal itself. I've used a spell to enhance it."

"I cannot read it," Boromir squinted at it. "Is that in Elvish?"

"It is," Gandalf confirmed. "And Quenya, at that."

"What does it say?"

"Well, this is where it gets interesting. It details some old magic, and speaks of Beren coming from another world, before returning to his own with Lúthien. It is called 'the great secret' several times in the text. It seems that this text was repressed, and the pages reused at some point for rewriting their tale."

"Do you think we can use this to bring Maggie back?" Boromir looked hopeful.

"I think so," Gandalf said. "But it is incomplete. I think we may have to send someone to her before we can bring her back. She can only return during a lunar eclipse. We will have to ask her when one is occurring in her world. It may be weeks, even months, before she can return. I think that Beren and Lúthien figured out a way to travel through time as well as between the worlds, which would explain his knowledge of events that had not yet occurred here, but that information is now lost. Although I cannot figure out how they accomplished this. Men cannot perform this kind of magic."

"She said time passes differently there. It's only been three weeks in her world, but it's been months here. Does that mean it could be years in this world?"

"I doubt it," Gandalf twisted a strand of his beard in between his fingers. "It seems like now that she is still connected here, time is beginning to even out between the worlds. There is only hours difference, instead of days. Time may even be parallel as soon as tomorrow."

"This all seems very strange," Boromir furrowed his brow, and traced his finger down the page, to where a strange sigil was inscribed. "Wait, what did Maggie say this man's name was in her world?"

Gandalf fumbled for the scrap of paper he had scribbled it on. "John Ronald Reuel Tolkien," he said.

Boromir traced his finger along the J, two R's, and T.

"I think we know that this was the same man," he said.

Gandalf nodded.

...

Maggie woke in the early morning, stretching as the golden light filtered through the lace curtains and danced across the pink and green cross-and-crown quilt on the bed.

"Boromir?" she murmured.

_I'm here. I spoke to Gandalf last night. I think we might have discovered something._

"Tell me," she said, as she pulled a sweatshirt over her head and padded downstairs to put the coffee on.

Jeff was sitting at the table, already dressed.

"Oh, good, you're awake," he said. "I was just coming to check on you. I have to go to work. I'm gonna call and check on you, okay? So keep the phone close by, and call before you go out anywhere. You sure you're okay?"

Maggie nodded. Jeff put his tea mug in the sink, and grabbed his bag.

"See you later then, Mags," he waved at her, and headed out the door. She heard his car start, and rumble up the gravel driveway.

Boromir filled her in on the details as she poured a cup of coffee and stirred in sugar. She walked out the back door, grabbing the cordless off the hook on the way, and sitting on the steps with her bare feet in the grass, watching the birds flying above the wheat field.

"So someone has to come to my world?" Maggie asked, surprised.

_It seems that way. I believe I will be the one to join you. I should like to see your world._

"This is going to be very weird," Maggie sipped her coffee. "But then, this whole thing is completely insane. How crazy is it that Tolkien went to Middle Earth? I always wondered how he managed to make it so complete, even down to the different languages, and the details of so many people and places. It was considered his life's work here, but it seems like he probably consulted his Elvish wife for details as he wrote it."

_You may be correct. I don't know how long Lúthien was alive before she met Beren and chose to become mortal, but it could have been a thousand years. The Elves are a very learned people._

"Except Haldir," she muttered. She heard Boromir laugh.

_I don't know if I should be jealous of him or not. Boromir teased. The only other person you abuse with such passion is me._

"Don't you start," she warned, blowing the steam from the coffee. "And I'm pretty sure he's gay."

_Gay?_

"Well, I told you I like women. Some men prefer other men."

_How do you know?_

"I don't. It's just a hunch. Wouldn't surprise me, is all."

_Well, Gandalf said he would be here this morning with Elrond to try the spell. _Boromir changed the subject, somewhat uncomfortable.

"Good," she smiled to herself.

_Oh, do you know when the next lunar eclipse is supposed to be, in your world?_

"I can look it up," Maggie headed inside, and booted her laptop. "Give me a couple of minutes."

The old Mac slowly rumbled to life, and she opened Safari and googled it.

"It's in a week," she told him. "May 25th."

_I will have to tell Gandalf. This could be important. We may be able to bring you back._

"I hope so," she said. "I wonder what will happen to me here, though?"

_I do not know. I will try to find out what I can._

"Okay."

...

That night, Gandalf, Elrond and Aragorn were standing around Maggie's bed. Boromir was also there, as was Haldir. Gandalf held his staff out, and was murmuring words in an ancient tongue, reading from a transcribed copy of the palimpsest.

"Take her hands, Boromir," Elrond instructed. Boromir did as he was told.

"Gandalf is trying to send me through," he murmured. He heard her assent quietly in his head.

Gandalf began to chant, as ribbons of light danced from the edge of his staff and enveloped them.

Boromir closed his eyes, feeling a rush of wind lifting his hair around him. Suddenly, he felt as if he was kicked in the chest.

...

Maggie heard water rushing in her ears, and lights flashed before her eyes. She blinked to clear the glare, shaking her head.

When she could see again, Boromir was standing in her kitchen.

...

A/N: Well, then. How will Boromir do in rural Manitoba?

Up next: shopping, more research, and of course, shenanigans.

Last chapter's song: Return to Sender, by the one and only Elvis Presley.


	28. What's a Canadian farm boy to do?

A/N: I can't believe the way this story has taken off. I have so many followers and favourites, something which I totally didn't expect. You guys all make my day, whether it's by PM, review, or just reading it. You rock.

Maggie's house is based on my great-grandparents' farmhouse, of which I have only pictures and my father's descriptions.

Warning: smutty. And silly. And apparently quite long.

Borys: I couldn't end it now, too many loose ends! (And do you really think a guy from a vaguely medieval society would cope in a world full of cars and technology? ...well, we'll see.)

...

Chapter Twenty-Eight - What's a Canadian farm boy to do?  
...

Maggie launched herself across the kitchen and into the arms of her lover, who was still crackling with magical energy. He laughed as he caught her.

"I have missed you so, my love," he said, as he bent to kiss her. She smiled at him.

"So, it'll be a week before we can get back," Maggie hugged him. "So you'll get to see my home now."

"I am looking forward to it."

_Maggie?_ Gandalf's voice echoed in her head.

"I'm here," she replied.

_Boromir's body only exists in your world, so you are the only link between them. For now, I need to ensure that I have the correct procedure for returning you to this world. I will return to speak to you late tomorrow morning, but for now, I shall leave you to your own devices._

"Thanks, Gandalf," Maggie grinned. "Do we know what will happen to my body here when I cross back?"

_Not yet. I am attempting to discover this. I will let you know what I find._

Boromir watched her talk to herself, chuckling. The communication line was broken, and she looked up at him.

"It is very strange to watch you talk to someone who is not here," he laughed.

"Now you see why I wanted to get out the hospital. Didn't want anyone to think I'm crazy. Come on, let me show you my house. We're standing in the kitchen, in case you hadn't figured it out. Feel free to poke around as much as you want."

Boromir looked around the room. There was a big white enamelled cast iron sink under a large window, framed with white lace curtains. The room was painted a bright, clean white, and the floor had clean, albeit somewhat worn, black and white linoleum tiles. The kitchen table and chairs were painted robin's egg blue, with red striped cushions. A fruit bowl sat in the middle of the table. There were many cupboards, and a large pantry door next to the two staircases - one leading upstairs, one to the cellar. The back door was propped open, and a chilly breeze was wafting in. Stars were visible, and there was a sound of wind whistling through grass. Crickets chirped in the distance. There was a light on a distant pole in the field, illuminating a scarecrow.

Boromir walked over to the sink, looking at it curiously. Maggie stepped up beside him and turned on the tap. He jumped back.

"Amazing," he murmured, sticking his hand under the spout. Maggie turned on the hot water, and watched in amusement as he felt the temperature change. "How does this work?"

"There's a tank where water is kept heated, and it's pumped through pipes to the kitchen and bathroom. There's a well in the yard that it comes from. Indoor plumbing is probably the thing I missed most in Middle Earth."

"The convenience would make many lives easier. Perhaps we can find some books on how to accomplish something like this in Minas Tirith? It must be more sanitary this way."

"We'll drive into town tomorrow, get you some normal clothes too. I'm pretty low on groceries, too."

"What's wrong with my clothing?" Boromir looked down at his blue tunic, worn over a white shirt and brown leggings. Maggie looked him over, and decided that his brown boots probably wouldn't be too bad with a good solid pair of jeans.

"Nothing, in Middle Earth," Maggie said. "But most men here? They dress like I do, actually. I don't dress very girly. Jeans, t-shirts, zipped up hoodies... Basic staples. We'll just pick you up a couple of things so I can take you out and show you off. Hmm. Want a beer?"

"Please," Boromir smiled. Maggie walked over to the fridge and opened it, pulling out two bottles of Molson Ex. She twisted off the caps with her sleeve, and handed one to him. He took it in wonder.

"It's cold!" he exclaimed, running his finger over the label.

"Yeah, that's the fridge. It keeps food, or in this case, beer, cold. Runs on electricity, just like the lights, television, stove... Pretty much everything, really."

"This electricity, that's the lightning power you spoke of before, right?" He took a swig of the beer, and grinned in approval.

"Not bad, huh?" Maggie tipped back her own bottle. "It's no microbrewery fancy beer, but it's one of my favourites."

"Show me more of your home," Boromir smiled at her.

She led him from the kitchen at the back of the house to the large living room. In the centre of the house was a red brick fireplace, flanked on either side by bookshelves. It had once heated the entire home in the dead of winter, but Maggie had put electric baseboard heating in, and it was primarily used for especially cold nights or indoor camping. The room had, in it's Victorian days, been separated into a parlour, dining room and a living room, but the previous owners had knocked down the walls, so now there was one long room. She had a chaise longue and two big, overstuffed armchairs by the fireplace, and a large sectional sofa created a separate space where her television was mounted on the wall. The living room opened into the foyer, which was really a wraparound porch that had long since been closed in against harsh Canadian winters. She had two large wardrobes out there, and some benches to sit on. At the other end was a small rattan sofa and coffee table. Usually it was too draughty in the winter to sit outside for any reason other than to get dressed in outerwear, but it was a nice sunny spot in the summer. Also off the living room was the small, rarely-used guest bedroom, which largely behaved as a dumping ground for things with no home.

"So, this is downstairs," she said. "It's not huge, but I love it. Come, let's go up." She led him back into the kitchen, and up the stairs.

"It is a beautiful home," Boromir told her. "I can understand how you would not want to leave this behind."

"It's just a house," she shrugged. "We can build another."

She led him first into her office, which was quite tiny. There was a desk shoved against one wall with a filing cabinet, and a printer jutting out on top of that. A bookshelf was laden with more books. Once upon a time it had been the nursery - when she'd moved in, the walls were papered with little teddy bears. It certainly had enough room for a crib, a rocking chair, and a changing table/dresser.

Leaving the office, there was the second bedroom. At the moment, it was in use as a home gym. Her elliptical machine was in there, along with yoga mats and weights. One wall was mirrored.

"What is the purpose of this room?" Boromir asked her, bending to pick up a weight. "Oof, that's heavy."

"It's my home gym. I work out here, to keep in shape. Here, hold my beer," she handed him the bottle and stepped up onto the elliptical. "See, this machine works my arms and legs at the same time. It's hard to go running in the dead of winter here, it gets really unbearably cold, and the snow is far too deep. So I keep in shape indoors." She stepped down, and took her beer back. "Come on, I saved the best for last."

"And what might that be?" Boromir raised an eyebrow.

"The bathroom, and my bedroom. You thought the sink was cool, wait until you see the flushing toilet."

...

After they had finished their beers, and thoroughly explored the virtues of indoor plumbing, Maggie decided to drag him into the shower. Her bathtub wasn't exactly built for two, but she had a wonderful shower installed that was perfect for working on sore muscles.

"Are you sure about this?" Boromir asked, as Maggie pulled some towels out of the cupboard and hung them over the rail next to the tub.

"Yep," she said, stripping her shirt off over her head. "Come on, let's get naked."

She adjusted the temperature of the shower, and clambered under the spray. He pulled off his clothes, and stood tentatively at the edge of the tub, peering through the shower curtain at her.

"Get in," she commanded. "Stop staring at me like some kind of creeper."

"I am not a creeper," he replied with mock grouchiness, and stepped into the tub. There were three shower heads - the first, a rain-style that hung from the ceiling and rushed down in the centre of the shower. There was a second that pumped water at an angle, and a third removable one. Maggie stood under the second one, the water beating down on her sore shoulders. She beckoned to him, and he stepped under the rainfall head.

She smiled at him salaciously, enjoying the way the rivulets of hot water ran over his sculpted chest and down his arms. His hair was wet, dripping in his eyes, and she pushed it back off of his face.

"Let me wash your hair," she purred. She picked up her vanilla-spice shampoo, and squeezed some into her hand. She turned his back to her, and instructed him to tilt his head back. She worked the lather through his hair, scratching his scalp with her nails. She massaged his head in a way that felt heavenly. The water beating down on his back worked at his muscles, still sore from fighting. He was still bruised in many places, and Maggie kissed the ones of his back as she took the detachable shower and rinsed his hair.

She then grabbed a sea sponge and her seaweed-and-peppermint soap, and lathered it up, rubbing it over his back, being gentle where he was bruised, and less gentle where he wasn't. He leaned his head forward and groaned when she came to the knot at the base of his neck.

"Oh, dear," she said, working at it gently with her hand. "This must be causing you some pain. I'll massage it out after." She shut off all but the rainfall shower head.

He then turned to face her, his eyes burning with lust. He pulled her close, and kissed her as the shower rained down on them, tangling his hands in her short, wet locks, and feeling her body slide against his. She tasted like the cold beer, and her mouth was hot and wet and welcoming.

She leaned back against the wall, and he lifted one of her legs against his hip, grinding against her centre. She drew him down for a dizzying kiss as one hand held her leg over his hip, his foot resting on the edge of the tub, and his other hand flitted across her breast, causing her to gasp in delight.

"Shall we go to bed?" he murmured in her ear. She smiled at him.

"We have time for that later," she said, wrapping her arms over his shoulder and bracing herself on the wall. He slid his hands under her ass, and lifted her, sinking her body down onto him, her back against the slick, cool tiles.

He gasped as he entered her.

"Oh," he moaned. "I would never have thought to do this standing up."

"I'll teach you yet," she said into his mouth, kissing him. He began to drive into her, supporting her with his strong arms and one bent leg. She held onto his shoulders, and pushed back into his thrusts. The spattering of warm rain from the shower head beat down on his back, and ran in small streams over her face and chest. Her eyelashes were damp, and her lips glistened. She'd never looked so gorgeously dishevelled.

They rocked against each other, one of his hands finding it's way to the knot of nerves between her legs and gently encircling it. She moaned into his mouth, and he quickened the pace of both hand and hips until she was chanting his name, barely breathing, and tumbled over the edge. He dove off after her, his limbs shaking from the effort of keeping them both upright.

He let her down gently, still trembling, and leaned against the wall of the shower, letting the water soothe his over-stimulated flesh. Maggie took up the sponge again and washed his chest, moving gently down, and placing kisses and nips as the suds rinsed away.

"My turn," he said, deftly swiping the sponge from her, grinning devilishly.

...

They stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, then tumbled into Maggie's bed, still damp, wrapped in the soft blue towels.

Boromir propped himself up on one elbow, and reached out to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear. She gave him a shy smile.

"I'm so happy to be here with you again," he said huskily. "I could not bear the thought of you being lost to me forever."

"When I first woke up here, in the hospital," Maggie replied. "I thought it must have all been a dream. I felt sick, I felt like something important, something vital to my survival, had been ripped away from me. When Haldir managed to contact me, I thought it was almost too good to he true." Sighing, she lay on her back, with her arms behind her head. "The past few months with you and the fellowship have been some of the most gruelling of my life. And I know that life in Middle Earth doesn't have the same conveniences as home does, and that my life will be harder because of that. But I still feel like I belong there, as out of place as I am. I belong with you."

He rolled over onto his stomach, and leaned over to kiss her. She smiled into his mouth, and then jumped up.

"Stay put," she said, as he moved to turn onto his back. She rooted around in her bedside table drawer, and came up with a massage bar. She straddled his towel clad waist, discarding her own on the floor, and began to warm the bar between her hands. Soon, they were slick with the spicy-smelling, buttery oil, and she replaced the bar in the tin on the nightstand and began to knead his shoulders.

"Nngh," he said into the pillow. Her long, capable fingers worked at the knot at the base of his neck, pushing and pulling the sore cords of muscle until they yielded to her gentle touch. She moved down his back, her weight balanced on her knees on either side of his hips. She drew in long strokes up either side of his spine, being cautious of the battle-bruised tissues. He began to relax into it, breathing deeply with each movement of her hands over his slick skin.

She worked on him for at least half an hour, burying her hands into the thick muscles of his back and unwinding the tension he carried there. He tried to ignore the blood pounding in his veins, the erection that was grinding into the bed as her sensuous touch moved down and began to stroke the taut muscles of his legs. He betrayed himself with a groan when her hand slipped under the towel and danced across the backs of his thighs, and he pulled her down, rolling over so that she straddled him from above.

She could feel him hard against her through the towel, and she smirked at him.

"I guess you liked that," she murmured, grinding down into him. He growled, ripping the towel aside, and guiding her hips so she was above him.

"Not so fast," she said, putting a hand on his chest. "I have some... toys... for us to play with."

He watched with curiousity as she dove back into the drawer, and pulled out a bottle of something, and a couple of strange looking, phallic objects. She took a slim, small blue one, and twisted the end of it. It made a buzzing sound, quieter than a swarm of bees, and he watched, puzzled, as she brought it down between his legs.

The intensity as she pressed the vibrating object on the tender spot underneath his balls was almost overwhelming. He arched off of the bed with a shout, and she pulled the object away, smiling slyly. His breath came in pants, and he looked at her, aghast.

"What is that?" he asked, as she poured some liquid from the bottle into her hand.

"It's a vibrator. A sex pleasure object. Women mostly use them on themselves, but they can be a lot of fun when used as a couple."

"Women... use these on themselves? Alone?" he gasped again as she grasped his erection with her slick hand, sliding it up and down and coating it with the oily substance. His hips bucked up into her movements.

"Yeah, alone. We have needs too, you know. Some women use their hands, some use toys... I've used toys with other women, too, but it's been a long time."

"Show me," he said. "I want to see what you do. I want to know how to please you."

She spent the rest of the evening showing him.

...

They finally collapsed into sleep, slick and sticky with sweat and lube, after hours of exploration, caressing, and climaxing. Cold air danced in from the slightly-open window, and they curled around each other for warmth and comfort.

Boromir awoke in the early morning hours to the sounds of birds in the maple tree outside the window. He watched his slumbering mate, curled up around her pillow, her breaths coming in gentle puffs. He observed her for a while, as the sunlight danced across her freckled nose, and her pale eyelashes brushed her cheeks. She was exquisite in the morning.

Boromir slipped out of bed quietly, and padded off, barefoot and naked, to the bathroom.

...

Maggie woke groggily, hearing the sink running in the bathroom. She rubbed at her sleep-crusted eyes with the backs of her hands, and stretched. She felt pretty gross, so decided to go find her lover and drag him in for a shower.

He was standing in the bathroom naked, looking at himself in the mirror above the sink. He scratched at his stubbled chin, and turned when he heard gentle footsteps in the hallway.

"Morning, love," he said, turning to her as she ducked into the room. She kissed him on the shoulder as she walked past and started the shower. She was singing to herself and scrubbing at her short hair when he decided to join her.

After they were both clean, Boromir followed her back into her bedroom.

"I'm gonna see if I have something for you to wear," she said. She started to dig around in her closet, and came up with an oversized Winnipeg Jets jersey. Rooting around in her drawers came up with boxer shorts that SHE wore to bed that had always been a bit big, and a pair of black sweatpants from her military days. Hobo clothes, she decided, but good enough for them to go out and get some new things.

He scrutinized them closely, reading the front of the jersey. "Winnipeg Jets? Is this what normal men in your world wear?"

"It's a hockey team, and yeah. Though not necessarily with sweatpants. You won't be the most fashionable guy out there, but it'll do until we can go shopping."

Her phone chirped from the top of the dresser. "Hang on a sec," she said, grabbing it. "Hello?"

It was Jeff, checking in.

"Yeah, I'm good. Don't worry. I've got a friend staying with me for a while. A friend. None of your effing business," she laughed. "Well, maybe we'll come by the house tomorrow or the next day. He's from England. Yeah, we met online, known him for years. Was in Winnipeg for work and decided to visit. Don't worry, he won't murder me," she rolled her eyes. "You know I can take care of myself. Uh huh. I still have the shitbox, it isn't great but it's wheels until I get the insurance money. Yeah. Thanks Jeff. Bye." She clicked the phone off, and turned to Boromir, who was sitting on the bed looking at her in confusion.

"That was Jeff, my buddy from work, calling to check on me. Now, let's get you dressed. We're going out for breakfast."

"Where's England? And what's online?" Boromir asked suspiciously.

"Your accent sounds a lot like an English accent. England is a country pretty far away. If anyone asks where you're from, say Yorkshire. I think that's the closest to your accent," she explained. "And online is the way we communicate with people from different countries. We met playing online video games. I'll show you one later, they're fun. I think we might need to give you a new name, too."

"So I am to lose my name now, too?" his eyes darkened. "I do not like the idea of being deceitful."

"The only person called 'Boromir' exists only in Tolkien's works in my world. If we want you to blend in, we need to find a name that sounds close enough, but average for a guy from England. Hmm. Bob? No. Bruce... not really. Bradley?" Boromir shook his head. "Brandon."

"Brandon," he rolled the name around in his mouth.

"I think that works," she said. "The only Middle Earth name that I've come across that is at all common here is Sam. Should probably give you a surname too. Smith. There, keep it simple."

"So in public, I am Brandon Smith?"

"Yes," she said. "Bran for short?"

"Like Maggie is short for Margaret?" he smiled. "Very well."

Maggie pulled a pair of jeans on, followed by a tank top and a red plaid button down. She explained the order of the new clothes to him, and while he dressed she put on cowboy boots, and grabbed her purse. It had been recovered from the scene of the accident, which was lucky.

"Come on!"

He followed her down into the kitchen, where he pulled his boots on. She bent and arranged his sweatpants so they covered them. She took her keys from the hook by the back door.

...

She pulled up the dusty, creaky garage door. It smelled musty inside, and the only light besides the door came in through a tiny, streaky window. Maggie walked over to the old car.

"Remember when I got to Middle Earth, we were in the bed of my truck? That was a vehicle from here. So's this. It's a really old car, but it'll get us around," she unlocked the door, and opened the passenger side. "Here, sit here." He got in, and she showed him how to fasten the seatbelt. Then she got behind the wheel herself.

"Let's hope the old girl starts," she said, turning the key. Protesting, the old grey Honda rumbled to life. "Now, don't touch ANYTHING. This thing goes pretty fast, and if you hit a button or lever somewhere it could make us get into an accident. Okay?"

He nodded, swallowing apprehensively.

She put her hand on the shifter, and pressed the clutch. They lurched forward and rumbled up the gravel driveway.

"Whoa," Boromir said, gripping onto the dashboard. Maggie laughed.

"Wait until we get on the highway," she smirked.

They turned onto the rural road, and drove through a few miles of golden wheat fields punctuated by little houses, barns, and tall silos.

She led them onto the highway, and gunned it. The muffler made a rather disconcerting coughing sound, but soon they were speeding along quickly.

"I have never moved so fast in my life," Boromir's face was white, but his eyes were glowing. "No horse could match this."

"Nope," Maggie replied. "And this is almost twenty years old. Newer cars go faster, and use less gas - the fuel the engine burns. This thing is pretty old, but it was my first car. Served me well." Tim Horton's was at the next exit, coming up at their right. "We're gonna go get breakfast. Best for you to keep quiet and let me do the talking."

"I trust your judgement," he replied simply, gazing out of the windows. She backed into a parking space and put on the handbrake.

"Here, see that lever? If you pull it, the door opens. Never pull it while we're moving, but this way you can get out yourself," Maggie opened her door and shut it with a clunk. Once Boromir was out, she locked the car with her remote and led him into the restaurant. "Come on, Brandon."

She walked up to the counter, Boromir close on her tail.

"Hey, Mags!" the girl behind the counter greeted her. "I heard you were in an accident or something. You all right?"

"Right as rain, Jen," she replied. "How's school?"

"You know. Boring. Who's your friend?"

"This is Brandon. Brandon, this is Jen. I'm a regular here, then again all the firehouse boys are."

"Pleasure to meet you," Boromir said softly. Jen raised an eyebrow at his accent, and gave Maggie a look. Maggie smiled blandly.

"So, what can I get you?" Jen leaned on her hands against the counter.

"One medium black with one sugar, and one double-double," she said. "And can I get two Homestyle biscuits with bacon, egg and cheese?" The girl punched in her order. "And what the hey, two maple-dipped doughnuts."

Jen told her the total, and Maggie counted out the change, tossing a toonie tip onto the counter. Soon, a tray was produced, with two cups of steaming coffee, the sandwiches, and doughnuts.

Maggie grabbed the tray, waving to Jen, and headed over for a quiet table in the corner by the window.

"What is this drink?" Boromir asked quietly.

"It's coffee," Maggie said, picking up the black cup. "I like mine black - no milk in it, but I got you the milder one to try. See if you like it. If not, I'll get you a juice or something."

Boromir lifted the mug between both hands, feeling the warmth radiating out through the ceramic. He sniffed the steaming liquid tentatively. It smelled surprisingly good, so he took a sip. Maggie grinned, knowing she'd converted him, and would have to smuggle some coffee back with them.

"Wanna try mine?" she pushed her mug toward him. He took a sip, and made a face.

"That is very bitter," he said, returning to his own coffee. He unwrapped the sandwich, and took a bite. "But this is good."

Maggie laughed, and bit into her own sandwich. They sat in amicable silence, until they finished eating them, and Maggie pulled out the doughnuts.

"Now," she said quietly. "Canada is famous for our maple syrup. It comes from trees. And this restaurant is known for their doughnuts."

"Who is this Tim Horton's, anyway?" he asked, biting into the sweet pastry. He grinned at her.

"Once upon a time, he was a hockey player. But when he retired he started a restaurant chain selling coffee and doughnuts. Now you can't throw a rock in any Canadian town without hitting a Tim's. And we like it that way."

They finished their coffee, cleared the table, and headed back to the car.

...

She drove into town, pointing out landmarks along the way. Clothing choices were pretty limited - there was a fancy men's suit store, a Giant Tiger, and Sears. There was a Walmart the next town over, but she didn't want to overwhelm Boromir too much in one day.

She decided to head for Sears. She pulled into the parking lot, and led him into the store.

Shortly, he was laden with different clothes to try. She did some guesswork about sizing, and sent him into the changing room. As it was a weekday morning in a small town, there weren't too many men out shopping, so Maggie stood outside the door and muttered instructions, adjusting the clothes when he came outside. She piled the rejects on the rack, and then they headed to the shoe department.

They emerged from Sears with a pair of black dress shoes, a belt, a pair of sneakers (he had liked the red ones), two pairs of jeans, the dress pants, several t-shirts and plaid button downs, a couple of nice dress shirts, and some gorgeous sweaters - as well as socks and underwear. Her credit card was ringing, but she felt it was worth it.

Before they walked away from the strip mall, Maggie dragged him into the suit store.

"Hi, I'm Alex. Can I help you?" a flamboyant man wearing a pink striped scarf with a measuring tape draped around his neck greeted them as they entered.

"Yeah, thanks," Maggie said. "We're looking for something pretty classic for him. Maybe a dark grey, or navy pinstripe?"

"Hmm," the young man flipped his bangs out of his eyes and walked around Boromir, putting his hands on his shoulders, and pulling in the jersey around his waist. Boromir looked at Maggie, slightly alarmed, but she gave him a withering look, and he relaxed a bit. Alex stood in front of him, looking at his face.

"I think I know just the thing. You have a wide face, so you can pull off a good full Windsor. No waistcoat. I think charcoal would look good with your colouring, it would bring out the blue in your eyes," he leaned in closer and took a few measurements. "Okay, give me a minute."

Alex went over to a rack of suits, and began rifling through it. He emerged with a couple of styles, and laid them over the large white couch in the middle of the store. He took the first one and handed it to Boromir by the hanger, along with a white shirt. He smiled at Maggie, leading Boromir behind the folding screen. Maggie followed.

"I suspect you aren't often a suit-wearing man, if you are looking for such a basic staple," Alex chattered, as Boromir pulled the hockey jersey over his head.

"Not really," Boromir replied quietly.

"Ooh, English. So what's up with the Winnipeg Jets jersey, then? Aren't you all football fans or rugby or something?"

"It's mine," Maggie said. "We've been clothes shopping because the airline lost his suitcase. He got here with the clothes on his back, but he definitely needs more. We got some staples already, but didn't have a chance to change yet."

"Good," Alex said, appraising Boromir's body as he kicked off his boots. "This is not the type of physique one should hide under an old jersey and baggy sweatpants, no sir." He clicked his tongue as Boromir pulled off the sweatpants, and stood in the pair of Maggie's plain blue boxers. "You didn't happen to pick up any briefs or boxer-briefs in your shopping, did you? Boxers bunch something awful under a good suit, it ruins the whole look." Maggie grinned conspiratorially.

"I did," she fished out the underwear, ripping the tags off with her teeth. Alex turned his back, politely, and Boromir quickly changed into the new underwear, short black boxer-briefs. Maggie handed him the suit pants, which he stepped into, and managed the zipper pretty expertly for someone who hadn't encountered them more than a handful of times. He stood there in his socks and pants, and Alex grabbed the white shirt, shaking it open.

"You don't talk much, do you, big fella?" he grinned, holding the shirt so Boromir could put his arms through.

"Nope," Maggie said in response. "But the nice thing about a man of few words is that when he does speak, he usually doesn't say anything stupid."

Alex let out a high-pitched titter, and began to button the shirt at the front. He told Boromir to tuck it in, which he did, and then adjusted it himself.

"These pants are perfect," he exclaimed, circling around the back in admiration. "Seriously, girlfriend, this is not a butt you hide in sweatpants."

Maggie let out a strangled laugh as Boromir reddened, and let out a small snort. Alex scurried off, and returned with a handful of ties.

"Now, the classic white shirt is a good idea, I think a blue shirt would also be good, and maybe three ties. What do you think, honey?" He turned to Maggie, holding up ties to Boromir's face.

"I think you're right. That patterned grey one, that lovely satiny deep red one, and I think the blue striped?"

"You have a good eye," Alex praised. "That way you can mix and match, get different looks. I'd take a pocket square that matches the grey, because that's your most formal look, perfect for weddings."

"Good idea," Maggie grinned. Boromir stood there helplessly.

"How rude of me, I forgot to ask your names," Alex said, as he looped the grey tie around Boromir's neck and began to expertly tie it in a flash.

"I'm Maggie," she said. "And this is Brandon."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Maggie and Brandon," he grinned. "Most clients are coming in for tux rentals and stuff, we don't sell a ton of suits in this small town."

"Did you grow up here?" Maggie asked.

"Uh huh. You?"

"Not far," she said. "I was in the army, and when I came back I got a job as a paramedic with the firehouse."

"You're with the firemen? Oh you lucky little minx! What I wouldn't give to spend some time with them," Alex chuckled. "I went to fashion school in Toronto. This is my Dad's shop, but he wants to retire. And he knows he's leaving it in good hands." He winked. "He's still kind of stuck in the baggy-suit 80's. Which is fine for the over-60 golf club group, but the young men deserve British or Italian cut, not those awful American sack suits."

"You certainly know your stuff," Maggie grinned at him again, as he held out the jacket for Boromir to shrug into. Alex adjusted the cuffs, and tugged on the jacket in a few places.

"I think this needs to nip in a bit at the waist, you have very broad shoulders. And the pants need to be hemmed a little bit, they could stand to be brought in around the crotch, too," Alex said. "I could have this tailored for you in a couple of days, if you want."

"Of course," Maggie grinned at him. Alex clapped his hands, and sashayed over to the desk, where he got out a pincushion and notepad.

After walking around and pinning parts, making notes and getting Boromir to hold his arms out, Alex sat on the floor. He pinned up the hems, and then leaned forward.

"Do you dress left or right?" Alex asked absently, pins sticking out of his mouth. Boromir looked at Maggie in panic.

"Er," he mumbled. Maggie mouthed 'left' at him. "Left."

"Most men do, but I ask anyway," Alex said. Boromir shifted uncomfortably. "Don't move! You move, you bleed."

Soon, Boromir was out of the suit, and Maggie gave him his new jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweater to wear. He pulled these on with relief, and Maggie tossed the sweatpants and jersey into the Sears bag. His boots looked fine with the jeans.

"Okay, awesome. We'll make sure everything fits right when you come in for pickup, okay?" Alex punched a calculator on the desk, and scribbled down some figures. "Here's your total."

Maggie sucked in a breath at the number on the paper, but dutifully handed over her credit card.

_Maggie?_

Gandalf's voice resounded in her head, and she thrust the bags toward Boromir.

"Thanks a bunch, Alex. This is awesome. Here's my phone number, call when it's ready."

"Will do, it's a pleasure. Thank you," Alex smiled sincerely at them, as they clanged the bell on the door and headed to the car.

"Ready and waiting, Gandalf," Maggie said, as she punted the bags into the trunk, and got behind the wheel.

...

A/N: More shenanigans! I wonder why Maggie bought him a suit. What *is* that girl planning?

Tune in next time (hopefully Saturday!)

Last chapter's song guessed by Yummypurpledinosaurs - Somebody to Love by Queen. :)


	29. I couldn't be fonder of my big home

...

A/N: I found a spindle of mix CDs I made back when it was super cool to make mix CDs, and lo and behold, EVERY DISNEY SONG EVER. And all the songs from LotR. Inspiration, mayhaps?

We shall see.

...

Chapter Twenty-Nine - I couldn't be fonder of my big home

...

Maggie pulled into her garage, after having had a very lengthy and rather odd conversation with Gandalf, who had told her that she could bring back with her anything they could carry on their backs or in their arms.

She sighed longingly, thinking of her piano, and shut off the motor. Boromir watched her intently.

"Are you well?" he asked gently, laying his hand on her arm.

"I'll be fine," she replied, getting out of the car and opening the trunk. He followed her, grabbing the plastic bags. "It's just, last time I ended up in Middle Earth, it was by accident. Now that I'm deciding to go for good, potentially forever, and having to think about what is important enough to bring with me... it's a lot of stress."

"I will understand, if you decide you do not want to return," Boromir said, as they entered the kitchen through the back door. "This is your home. It is a very different life from the one you will lead in Middle Earth."

"I want to be with you," she smiled. "But it is hard to give up everything and know it might be for good. I'll be okay, I promise. I will miss my friends here, but I don't really have any family that I'm close to, so you boys are my family now."

She walked into the living room and sat down at her old black upright piano, against the wall between two windows, across from the fireplace. She lifted the lid. Boromir watched her curiously, leaning on the wall, as she gently tickled a few chords. She started playing the first movement of Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata', and trailed off after a few minutes, tears filling her eyes.

Boromir sat down on the piano bench beside her, and drew her to him.

"What is it, Maggie?" he asked, as she sniffled. "Tell me, please."

"This piano was my grandfather's. He taught me how to play this, and the guitar. I can bring the guitar back with me - it's small enough - but I will miss my piano," she drew her fingers across the keys, playing a little melody. "It's really the one important thing from home to me, music. I missed it like crazy while I was in Afghanistan."

"Maybe Gandalf can figure out a way for you to bring it back," Boromir said. "It will not hurt to ask, will it?"

"No," she said, then slammed her hands on the keys, making Boromir jump. She jerked her hands away, and covered her face with her hands.

He hugged her close, kissing her temple gently.

"Will you play for me?" he asked, taking her hands. "I should like to hear you."

She placed one hand back on the keys, and began to pick out the melody to 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' with one finger. He smiled at her, having the feeling that she wasn't being serious.

"I know you can do better than that," he said, shifting over so he was sitting on the very end of the bench.

She took both of her hands and placed them on the keys, and thought about what to play. She began to play 'Lux Aeterna', which had been used in the trailer for one of The Lord of the Rings films. He listened intently, knowing that she was pouring all of her emotion and frustration into the haunting song. He watched as her long, elegant fingers of her right hand picked out the chilling melody, and her left hand slammed out the deep, angry notes.

When she was finished, he released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"I think we need to find a way to bring this back," he said. "We will find a way. If I have to lift it myself."

"This thing weighs about five hundred pounds," she snorted. "I don't think Gandalf can transport this across dimensions, or whatever."

"We'll see about that," he replied with finality.

...

She played through as many songs as she could remember, before finally closing the lid, her stomach growling. Boromir had sat there listening closely, fascinated by her talent.

She headed into the kitchen, and dug around in her freezer. There wasn't a whole lot in there, but she found a freezer bag filled with the pierogis she had made for Easter that year, and pulled a frying pan out of one of the lower cupboards.

"What are you making?" he asked, looking at the bag warily. "They're frozen solid."

"Pierogis," she told him. "It's a type of dumpling, filled with potato and cheese. They're delicious. Some of the boys come over at Easter - the ones who don't have wives and kids, anyway, and I make a bunch of Polish food from my aunt's recipes." She cut a knob of butter and threw it into the pan, flicking on the burner, and began to chop a small onion.

Boromir stood in front of the stove, watching as the butter swirled around the pan, and began to melt and bubble.

"Amazing," he said, holding his hand over the pan to feel the heat. "There's no fire."

"Electricity," Maggie said, tossing the onion slices into the pan. They sizzled, and she stirred them with a wooden spoon, as they browned. She added the frozen pierogis, and stirred them occasionally as they cooked through, browning slightly on the outside.

Once it was ready, she split it between two bowls, and opened the fridge. She pulled out a container of sour cream, looked at the date, opened it and sniffed it. Shrugging, she spooned some into each bowl, and carried them over to the table with two forks. She opened the fridge and came up with a can of orange soda, which she split between two glasses.

Boromir followed her, and sat down at the table, inhaling the delicious fumes. Spearing one of the dumplings with his fork, he blew on it, and drew it through the sour cream. He bit into it, and gave Maggie a surprised look.

"Good, eh?" she grinned, biting into her own with a flourish. "Good to know I can cook. I'm more than just a pretty face."

He laughed at her, glad she was in a better mood, and picked up the drink.

"Strange colour," he said, eyeing it with distrust.

"It's orange soda," she told him. "It's fizzy and sweet. Try it."

He gingerly took a sip, and made a face.

"The bubbles feel weird," he took another sip. "I'm not sure I like this." Maggie chuckled, and went to the fridge for a bottle of beer. She twisted off the cap and handed it to him, then swiped the rest of his soda.

"I guess if you've never had it, it's pretty sweet," she said. "Could be worse. Cream soda is so sweet it makes your face hurt."

"I've never been much for sweets," he told her. "Maybe a biscuit now and then, or maybe pie. My brother used to eat these toffee candies that would glue your mouth shut. I hated them."

"I have a crazy sweet tooth sometimes," Maggie chuckled. "I can go months without any, then suddenly it's a binge. Ice cream, candy, soda, cake, anything I can put in my face. And then I feel horribly fat and spend the next three days on the elliptical."

"I still don't think you could beat the hobbits," he said. "Especially not Merry and Pippin. I don't know where they put all that food, they're so small."

"Hollow legs?"

"Perhaps."

...

After their lunch, Maggie booted up her laptop, and did some more research on Tolkien. She handed Boromir her copy of The Hobbit, which he dug into with fascination.

"Isn't this Bilbo Baggins Frodo's uncle?" he asked, following the words with one finger.

"Yeah," she replied. "He wrote this, supposedly. Wait... doesn't that mean he would have had to meet Tolkien, if he took the book to publish here?"

"He must have! We must ask Gandalf tonight, perhaps Bilbo said something to Frodo," Boromir smiled.

"Hmm," Maggie said thoughtfully.

An hour later, Maggie had given up on finding any information online, and Boromir had put the book down, looking over her shoulder as she browsed sites.

"Do you have any more of those moving stories, like the one we watched near Amon Hen, while I was injured?" Boromir asked hopefully. Maggie chuckled.

"Of course I do," she told him. "And I have a much bigger screen, too. Hey, do you want to watch The Lion King?"

"That's the one you tease Aragorn with, isn't it?" he grinned. Maggie nodded, and pulled out the orange DVD case from her bookshelf. He watched as she took the strange disc out, and put it in a little slot below a large black box on the wall. She pressed a few buttons on a tiny box on the table, and the screen came to life. Sound reverberated through the room, and Boromir looked around wildly for the source.

"Pretty cool, eh?" she grinned, skipping the intro and starting the film, flopping back onto the couch beside him.

"I couldn't have imagined this," he replied, watching the screen intently as the opening of 'The Circle of Life' played.

While Boromir was absorbed in the plot of the movie, Maggie went to the kitchen to pop some popcorn, and returned just before the stampede happened. She passed the bowl to him, and he took a handful.

"What is this?" he asked, munching.

"Popcorn," she replied. "It's a kind of grain. People eat this when they watch movies."

"Oh," he said absently, as Scar threw Mufasa into the ravine.

...

Gandalf contacted them again as Maggie was cooking up pasta, defrosting a homemade frozen meat sauce for it. Boromir laughed as she suddenly stopped mid-sentence, and made a weird face.

"Hi, Gandalf," she said.

_Hello, Maggie. I hope you are well. I've found a bit of information for you. If we want this transfer to be completely successful, you'll need a few things. I hope you can find them._

"Hang on, lemme get a pen," she said, digging in the mug on the counter. "Boromir, can you stir this? And watch when this pot starts boiling. Go ahead, Gandalf."

_You shall need salt, enough to create a circle around yourselves. Six candles, to also place in a circle around yourselves. A bowl of earth and a bowl of water each are also necessary. This needs to be set up out of doors, in view of the moon, before the eclipse. Take a piece of paper, and with ink, you need to write 'by this eclipse, we ask to move between worlds'. Bury it in the centre of the circle. Be ready at least a quarter hour before the eclipse. Do you think you can accomplish this?_

"Got it," she said. "Gandalf, I would like to bring something with me that is rather large. Do you think it can be done?"

_How large?_

"About five hundred pounds. It's a musical instrument," she explained.

_Place it in the middle of the circle, and both of you place your hands upon it. Perhaps we can bring it. I shall certainly endeavour to try. Please do not be disappointed if it should not work. I certainly hope it does, but I cannot make any guarantees. This is ancient magic, and I have never undertaken a task of this magnitude. I will be trying to force your two existences into one being, which will be difficult._

"I understand," she smiled. "I appreciate it, Gandalf. Oh, we had a thought this afternoon."

_Yes?_

"The book Bilbo wrote, it's been published in my world as 'The Hobbit'. Do you think it's possible that Bilbo could have met Tolkien? Or even you, without knowing so? Can you ask Frodo?"

_I am certain that I would remember such a character. Hmm. Let me think on it. I will contact you again tomorrow._

"Thanks, Gandalf," Maggie dumped the pasta into the water, and continued to make dinner as the gravelly voice in her head fell silent. She went down into the basement and came up with a bottle of red wine.

Maggie dished up dinner, and they sat at the table, enjoying their food and wine.

"What do you plan to do when you return home?" she asked. "Will you take up your father's post?"

"I do not think so," Boromir shook his head. "I should think I will give that to my brother. This adventure has been plenty for me. Though Aragorn will probably want to see both of us serving on his council. I should like to retain my post as High Warden, if I am allowed." He swallowed a mouthful of pasta. "But firstly, I should like to make a home for us. I imagine Faramir will move into the Steward's tower, and Aragorn will take the King's suite. But there is plenty of space in the castle of Minas Tirith. I think Aragorn will want us close at hand."

"I warn you now, I'm not a woman who can be idle," she told him. "I will have to continue healing people. It's my calling in life. And I have advanced knowledge compared to those from Middle Earth. I can't justify sitting around a castle getting fat."

"Of course not," Boromir smiled. "You are an exceptional woman. I would not expect you not to have a profession. I think Aragorn would give you the charge of the Houses of Healing, should you desire the post."

"We'll see," she said. "I'll have to gather up as much equipment as I can to bring with us, though. In fact, I should put in an order with the medical supply company now."

She filled the sink with hot water and soap, and dumped the dishes in.

"Hey, can you wash these while I place my order? I want it to ship right away. There's a scrubby sponge on the side, and just put them in the drain tray."

She left the room, carrying her glass of wine, and booted up her laptop and clicked through to the website.

Boromir stood in front of the kitchen sink, rolling up his sleeves, and gingerly reached in to pick up a dish. He'd washed dishes before - travelling necessitated it - but he'd never seen anything quite like the soap suds and the lime green pot scrubber.

"How do you empty the sink?" Boromir called out, once he'd finished washing up.

"There's a plug in the bottom, just twist it and pull it up."

He fiddled with it for a bit, and suddenly it started to drain. He smiled to himself, watching as the water and soap suds swirled around. He grabbed the dish towel hanging in front of the sink, and dried his hands off.

Maggie punched in her credit card number, and paid extra for overnight delivery. She looked over the top of her laptop, balanced on her stomach, from where she was lying on the chaise, as Boromir walked in the room.

The dark jeans hugged his sculpted legs, and his forearms were bare, his deep grey cable knit sweater shoved up to his elbows. There were buttons at the neck, open to show a white t-shirt underneath.

He looked modern, and, quite frankly, gorgeous. She gave him a predatory smile, and he looked at her somewhat nervously.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

"Because," she said. "You look hot."

"Hot?"

"Handsome? Sexy? Delectable," she ticked them off on her fingers, before shutting her laptop and shoving it onto the bookshelf. She swung her legs over the side of the chaise, and knelt to light the fire from the wood that was already built up in the fireplace, taking the chill from the cool spring evening. "Come here," she sat back down, and patted the chaise beside her. She took a last gulp of her wine, letting the heady little buzz wash over her.

He sat down, rubbing his hands on the legs of his jeans, looking down at the grey socks on his feet, slightly embarrassed. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and the next thing he knew, he was tangled up on top of her and she was kissing him, desperately, wildly, the tangy taste of wine on her lips.

...

A/N: I said I'd update Saturday, so here we are. A little sedate, but there you go.

We'll be coming to an end soon, I think. Maybe five or six more chapters.

Last chapter's song: Hit Somebody by Warren Zevon


	30. First time for everything

...

A/N: Sorry for the lengthy hiatus. My life has been in a bit of a weird spiral lately, as broke up with boyfriend of many years, hacked off all of my hair (not in a mad Britney Spears-type breakdown, saw proper hairdresser), helped my best friend move, my cousin had a baby, and on top of it have been mostly staying with my grandmother, who sadly does not have any Internet access. Her television and cordless phones are relics of the 1980's, so what I can accomplish there is pretty limited. :) I've also discovered Breaking Bad, and have consumed the first two seasons this week alone. Derp.

Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of marijuana use- but then again, I sometimes wonder exactly what's in 'pipeweed', anyway. ;)

Now where did I leave off? Oh, right.

...

Chapter Thirty - First time for everything, mmm, my ears still ring

...

The lovers lay naked and entwined on the chaise in front of the fire, panting from exertion. Maggie lay her head upon Boromir's chest, hearing his heart pounding inside his ribcage. She smiled at him, placing a gentle kiss on the slick skin covering his sternum. He placed a hand on the back of her head, petting her soft, short hair, his other arm wrapped around her and holding her close.

"I could stay like this forever," she whispered.

"I know," he replied.

...

The next day, Maggie received a phone call from Alex that the suit was ready to be picked up, so the two took a ride into town, with the car windows rolled down in the warm sun. The breeze ruffled Boromir's long hair as they sped along the country highway, and he closed his eyes and enjoyed the rushing of air past his ears.

Pulling into the parking lot, Maggie turned off the car, and smiled at him.

"I never asked you why I am being fitted with this suit," Boromir asked, crossing his arms and looking at her in suspicion.

"I want to bring a piece of my world back to Middle Earth with us," she told him. "Suits are generally used for formal occasions, and we'll stun everyone showing up dressed to the nines in clothes from my world."

"Hmm," he said, by way of response, and pushed the door open, taking care not to whack his head on the roof of the car. Maggie pulled a bag out of the trunk, and they headed into the shop.

The bells on the door clanged as they entered the store. Alex was sitting behind the counter, a fashion magazine open in front of him, and he was sewing a button back onto a jacket with expert hands. He looked up at the sound, and grinned.

"Thought I might see you today," he said, a hint of smugness in his voice. "This is going to be glorious."

He hopped down from his perch on the stool, and slipped through a door, returning with a black garment bag. He led them behind the dressing screen.

"I'm glad you already have a dress shirt on," Alex chattered, as he hung the bag on a hook and unzipped it. "This will look amazing, I swear." He handed Boromir the suit pants, and Boromir kicked off the dress shoes, pulled off his jeans, and donned the new pants quickly. Maggie stepped forward, helping him to tuck the shirt in properly. Alex tugged at the back of the shirt a bit. Maggie pulled the black belt out of the loops on his jeans, and Boromir added it to his outfit.

Maggie pulled the blue tie out of her bag, and handed it to Alex. He looped it around Boromir's neck, and had it tied in less than an instant.

"You do know how to tie a tie, don't you?" Alex asked, as he adjusted it and fixed the shirt collar.

"Er," Boromir said. "I'm not very good at it..." He looked at Maggie helplessly. She giggled silently.

"No worries," she said. "I've tied plenty in my lifetime. Standard part of military dress uniforms."

"I believe you," Alex grinned. "I bet you're pretty handy with an iron, too."

"You have no idea," she chuckled. Alex held out the jacket, and Boromir slid his arms inside. Alex settled the seams on his shoulders, and did up the two buttons in the front.

"Shoes," Maggie said. Boromir obeyed, and then Alex led him over to a three-way mirror.

"Perfect," Alex breathed, as Boromir gawped at himself in the mirror. His eyes shone back at him, looking more blue than grey. He felt strange standing there in these bizarre clothes, but the look on Maggie's face made it worth it. She was grinning widely.

"You have a magic touch," she said. "Here, Boromir, get changed back into your other stuff. Can I talk to you for a sec, Alex?" She took the expert tailor's arm and led him away, and began talking to him in hushed tones. Alex let out a squeal, clapping his hands. Maggie shushed him, and he grinned at her conspiratorially.

"Oh yes, one hundred percent," he said. "I'll get it done right away. Not really busy this week with alterations anyway."

"Great," she said, as Boromir returned from behind the changing screen. Alex packaged the suit back in the garment bag, and handed it to Boromir.

"Here you are," Alex smiled, as Boromir took the bag.

"Can you go put that in the car?" Maggie asked. "I'll be out in a moment."

"I don't know what you're up to," Boromir replied, kissing her on the temple. "But I suppose I'll find out later."

"Yes," she said. "Car's unlocked."

Looking after Boromir's retreating form as the door clanged, she opened the bag and removed a lace wedding dress of the palest ivory lace.

"This is beautiful," Alex said, fingering the fabric. "Taffeta. It's in wonderful condition." He took it from her. "But you're right, these sleeves are horrendous."

"It was my mother's," Maggie said softly. "My parents married in the 70's. I want to wear it. It fits really well, apart from the sleeves."

Alex scrutinized the dress. There were cascading flounces of lace on the skirt, which flared out in a pretty a-line with a short train at the a back. It had a sweetheart neckline, lined with lace, instead of the usual high-neck characteristic of usual 70's dresses.

"I think I can just take off the sleeves," Alex said. "And adjust it so these are shoulder straps."

"Perfect," she said, blinking back tears.

"This will be gorgeous," he said. "And so perfect for your figure, too."

"I've kept it all these years. My Mom died when I was young, but my grandma kept her wedding dress. We managed to keep it in pretty good shape."

"It's in great shape, for vintage," he said. "I don't usually do bridal, but I think this is a project I want to take on. And you don't strike me as the bridezilla type."

"Oh, definitely not," Maggie laughed. "I bet you have some horror stories."

"You wouldn't believe some of the crazy women that come here," Alex said. "Pick completely the wrong cut or style for their fiancé, and then yell at me when I make their men look amazing because they were wrong." He shook his head. "There's a reason I don't work in bridal."

"Thank you so much," she told him. "This will be awesome."

"No problem," Alex said, already folding and pinning the sleeves. "I'll have this done in a flash. I'll call. Now scoot, don't keep that wonderful hunk of man-meat waiting."

Maggie laughed, and skipped out the door.

...

They stopped off for some groceries, Boromir looking around in absolute wonder at the inside of the supermarket. He'd seen fruits, vegetables, and meat at markets before, but he'd never seen so many colourful packages. He kept stopping to read things that looked absolutely foreign, with Maggie chuckling at him.

When they reached the snack aisle, Boromir recognized the bags of potato chips from his first encounter in the woods. He was standing there reading bags of flavours as Maggie pulled a few bright bags from further down.

"Pick out what looks good," she told him. "Two bags, just not sour cream and onion or the bacon ones. Those are gross."

"What's 'ketchup'?" he asked quietly. She grinned.

"Canadian staple. Get one. And pick another," she tossed a package of chocolate bars in the basket.

He stared at the shelf, then grabbed all-dressed, because he was curious about what that meant. He put them in the basket, and they continued on.

He stood at the checkout, staring at the foreign magazine covers, as Maggie paid for their shopping. When they finished packing things in the truck and got back in the car, Boromir turned to her.

"Who is Prince William? And Kate?"

"Oh, they're the British royal family. Where you're supposedly from, you'd know this," she chuckled. "Prince William married Kate two years ago. He's the grandson of Queen Elizabeth II, so he's third in line to the throne. Canada is a commonwealth nation, so the Queen is our head of state, but she doesn't really have any power here."

"You have a queen, but no king?"

"Yup," she started the car. "At the moment, males are first in line to inherit, no matter their position in the order of birth, but if there aren't any, girls are next in line. Elizabeth's father had two girls. They're considering changing it, if Kate's firstborn is a girl, so that firstborn inherits, regardless of gender."

"The small books were discussing her pregnancy," he scratched his chin. "I'd ask how a woman can rule alone, but I've met you."

"Three of the greatest monarchs in the past thousand years were women, and they reigned longer than many men," Maggie explained. "I have a book on the kings and queens at home, you can look at it, if you want."

"Aragorn might be interested in that," he said. "I would like to see it."

...

They returned home. Boromir plunked down at her kitchen table with a large volume titled 'The Illustrated Encyclopedia of the Kings and Queens of Britain', poring over the text and images as Maggie made soup and sandwiches for lunch.

She brought two steaming mugs of homemade chicken soup to the table, followed by two grilled cheese sandwiches. She sat across from him, reading the page upside down.

"You're up to William the Conqueror, I see," she said, biting into her sandwich. "Mmm, gruyère. He invaded England in 1066, and basically all the modern royals trace their lineage to him, though it isn't a direct line."

"Hmm," Boromir said, turning the page, and picking up his spoon. "This soup is very good."

"Nana's chicken noodle recipe," she grinned. "I make a bunch and freeze it, then just reheat it."

"I would never have thought to toast bread with cheese," he bit into the sandwich. "But I think this is one thing we will bring back with us."

"Mmm," Maggie said. "All you need is bread, cheese, butter, and a frying pan."

"I wonder if Sam's pan made it back from Mordor," Boromir mumbled, brushing crumbs off of the glossy pages.

"Maybe," Maggie giggled. "I think that thing saw as much action as Frodo's sword."

...

Maggie's medical supplies arrived that afternoon, and she spent a couple of hours organizing and packing things into a small suitcase. The amount of things she could fit into one space was pretty impressive. She still planned to run to the pharmacy for some basic over the counter medications, and since she was one of the two medics authorized to order prescriptions for the fire house, she filled out a form, wincing to herself knowing she was going to disappear with expensive medications. She forged the chief's signature. She'd cash this in the day before they left, so they wouldn't figure it out before she was already gone.

Boromir was reclined on the chaise, knees bent, book open on his lap. Every now and then she heard a page rustle, and grinned to herself. She knew he'd find the British monarchy interesting, since technically he was considered Gondor nobility.

...

An hour later, after having bent over the coffee table packing and organizing, Maggie headed upstairs for a hot shower, leaving Boromir with his book. She came back down, and he hadn't moved, but he'd reached the Victorian era. She snickered, and sat down at the piano, picking out a few little tunes. She dug around in the bench for sheet music, and started playing some pop songs, singing Elton John softly as she played.

"What are those other instruments?" Boromir asked as she finished the song, putting down the book. Maggie turned to her two guitars.

"Well, this is an acoustic guitar," she said, picking it up. "I want to bring this one back with me." She sat down, strummed it a bit to tune it. "I should probably buy some extra strings. I've only broken one in fifteen years, but go figure I'd get to Middle Earth and screw it up." She put a pick between her teeth, and played a few chords, then stuck the pick in her pocket, and began to play, picking the notes with her fingers, singing as she did.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

You were only waiting for this moment to arise."

Boromir smiled at her, as she picked out the last few notes.

"And the other?"

"Well, that's an electric guitar. I can't bring that back with me, because it needs electricity to work properly. But I'll show you. Mostly rock music is played on these."

"Like the song you taught us?" Boromir leaned back on his arms.

"A bit," she said. "But most of that song is still stamping your feet and clapping your hands, guitar only shows up at the very end. Here, I'll play it and show you. If you can help, that is."

She began clapping her hands and stamping her feet, and once she got the tune going, she sang the last verse, then played the guitar solo.

"That is a very strange sound," Boromir said. "I'm not sure I like it."

"It sounds better with a whole band," Maggie told him. "Here, after dinner we'll raid my music collection, but we should eat."

...

After a dinner of chicken pot pie, Maggie and Boromir sat on the back stoop. Maggie had a cigarette in her hand, and was blowing smoke out of her nose.

"I don't understand smoking," he told her, standing off to the side. "It seems to be mostly people who spend time in the Shire who smoke. All of the hobbits, Gandalf, Aragorn..."

"Well, tobacco does contain a substance that is addictive, so you do crave it. It isn't very good for you," she ground it out in the plant pot full of sand on the step. "But people smoke things for different reasons. Weed, for example. It makes you... well, not drunk, but silly. And it makes sex amazing."

"Weed?" he scratched his head. "Is that the hobbits' pipeweed?"

"No, that seems to be some variety of tobacco," she said. "Weed is another word for marijuana. It's used in the medical industry as a pain reliever, and it can help with nausea for certain conditions. Technically it's illegal to use recreationally, but no one really cares about individual smokers."

"Do you smoke this weed?" Boromir asked. Maggie laughed.

"I live in Canada. We have one of the highest percentages of pot smokers in the world, especially in a country where it isn't legalized," she explained. "So, sometimes, probably once a month. It's fun. More fun than drinking, you don't get sick with it, or hung over, really. A bit of dry mouth if you don't drink a lot of water. I think I probably even have some in the house. Why, should I roll us a joint?"

"Er," Boromir said. "Do you think it's a good idea?"

Maggie was already in the kitchen, reaching for the piggy bank perched on top of the fridge. It had some pennies rattling around, but ootherwise contained a baggie of weed and her grinder. She pulled out the rolling papers, and returned to the back porch, picking the seeds out and preparing a blunt.

"Okay," she said. "You don't smoke this like a pipe. You have to breathe deep, it will make you cough, but you hold it in your lungs, which will make it hit your bloodstream." She lit it, and sucked the first hit down, holding the smoke in her lungs, before exhaling the smoked. "Hold it like this. Don't put it into your mouth, you don't want it to get wet."

She offered it to him. He took it tentatively, looking at the lit end. It smelled strange, but not disgusting like the cigarettes. He stuck the end in his mouth, and inhaled.

Coughing and spluttering, he handed it back to her. She laughed at him.

"It gets easier after the first time," she told him, blowing smoke out of her nose.

They passed it back and forth, taking hits, until Boromir was giggling in a completely un-Boromir way.

"What's so funny?" he tried to say, but kept laughing.

"You're stoned," Maggie informed him, sucking down another hit, then grinding it out on the bottom of her shoe.

"I feel... kind of dizzy," he said. He sat down beside her. She laid her head on his shoulder, enjoying the high.

"That's normal. Like being drunk, but less fuzzy," she explained.

They sat outside for a few more minutes, occasionally giggling.

"Come on, it's getting cold. I'm gonna make a fire, then we can have some snacks."

"I want chips," Boromir announced, and headed into the kitchen to retrieve them. Maggie lit a fire, and grabbed some graham crackers, marshmallows and the Hershey bars she'd bought. Boromir sat down on the chaise, and she prepared a s'more for him as he crunched on ketchup chips.

After she made her own, stole a handful of his chips, then returned with two tall glasses of water, she turned to iPod.

"Hmm," she said. "Rock music. Queen, Bon Jovi, Aerosmith. What else? Uh, why not some Pink Floyd, and what the heck, The Beatles." She loaded up a playlist with a few more things, and suddenly the room was filled with pulsing bass and the thumps of drums.

Boromir was lying on his back on the chaise with the bag of chips open on his chest, and his eyes widened as the room filled with sound.

"Whoa," he said.

"Awesome, eh?" she sat down at the end of the chaise near his feet, and stole a handful of the chips. "I fuckin' love music."

She walked over to her electric guitar, and played along with 'Livin' on a Prayer', singing it as she did. He listened to the blend of her loud guitar and smoky voice, combined with the man coming from the speakers. He closed his eyes.

"She says we've gotta hold on to what we've got

It doesn't make a difference

If we make it or not

We've got each other and that's a lot

For love - we'll give it a shot

Whoa, we're halfway there

Whoa, livin' on a prayer

Take my hand, we'll make it - I swear

Whoa, livin' on a prayer."

"I like that one," he said, as she finished the song. Maggie giggled.

"Bon Jovi fan, okay. You kind of look the type," she chuckled to herself, thinking of what he'd look like head banging at a concert. The next song came on, and Maggie put her guitar down and headed back to the fire. She toasted a few marshmallows, and made a plate of s'mores.

...

A/N: Leaving off here for now, so I can bloody well upload something tonight.

Last chapter's song: The Bare Necessities from The Jungle Book


End file.
